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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Death >> ID #1329332 |
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When the reaper man comes to call, Slinging his steely blade to perform the grim task Of harvesting another soul from mortal flesh, Threshing all hope of escape from the shade, Then Fate will scrawl the final rune in the tome of this life, Leaving mourners to clasp each other and console, When the reaper man comes to call.
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