If
you choose
To
sit thereon beyond what is licit
Because
your plethora of water lilies
In
our loch
Gives
you ample whips
To
diktat without heart
Those
who crossed out your countenance
If
you choose
To
deny; feasting with their old chicken
To
castrate their weary,
Yellow
daffodils
Rightful
liberation for them to suffer
What
you once endured
If
you choose
To
mend all ailment and malady
That
transpires in your kraal
And
none for our infested store
Because
we had given you
None
of our blotted finger on cue
If
you choose
To
disregard your obligation to us all
And.
our worthy herald who goes forth
In
dried ravines
Pelted
with thickets and quagmires
To
find spirits for our hamlet,
For
our parish
For
the endurance of all
You
should not denounce
Nor
throw stone
When
our arid season changes for the better
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