The Great Debater

"Dark have been my dreams of late,
Pray tell? I shall. Hark to thy own fate,
O'er mountain swells, I've been thither and back,
To our misfortune, I've bore witness to that,
Heaven and hell will soon be wed
And the reign of the Tyrant will know no end,
Callous is the corn that grows on green,
Fell is the hound that gnaws on sheen,
Catchers in the rye do surely deem,
That Monsters are of Men, and they hath been seen,
Larks send in signs from across the sea,
And leave in their wake songs o' plea,
Revel in rain, they sing to thee,
And covet the times that you are free,
But that is the curse, is it not, my fellow fiends?
The shameful uprising of Kings and Queens,
In council and check, they cast their spells,
And snare in the meek, those they drown in wells,
So onto you, my family,
I implore, sheathe your swords, 'tis a fallacy,
These are tidings of certain glee
That it's not too late to stop the spree,
To wage a war that will always be
To battle a false apostasy,
I say to thee, my dear,
Avast the fight for me,
And yield to clemency."

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