All went lame; all blind; / Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots / Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Sirs, I am quite sure that the King of England's forbears rightly and justly lost the conquered lands that I hold …
Hills, bulwarks of our freedom, giant walls, Which never fremdling's sleight nor sword made thralls; …
There's a text on my phone, news flash from Griff, and I'm sitting on our front porch pondering its blazing WTFery.
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