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Among shrubs they do groan, Under nettles they are gathered together.

Sons of folly -- even sons without name, They have been smitten from the land.

And now, their song I have been, And I am to them for a byword.

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Among the bushes they brayed; under the nettles they were gathered together.

They were children of fools, yea, children of base men: they were viler than the earth.

And now am I their song, yea, I am their byword.

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