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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> War >> ID #1010558 |
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the reasons of the dueling lords
have plagued the minds of all who see, for none recall the mighty words which yielded the first blow 'pon thee. don't cry, my child, your mother wakes; 'tis she 'twill hide ye from the storm. sing in the shadows of her embrace, and father knight will soon return. when dragons of war are distant dreams, you'll find peace whispering in the night, and boys and girls will laugh at fiends for good will win the eternal fight.
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