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The Reaper in the Bush
HE was lyin' on his bunk,
In the hut behind the mill,
Ravin' like a man wild drunk.
Never silent, never still.
"Best go in an' say Good bye,"
Says old Blair. "He's got to die."
God! I never want to see
Any face so wrung with pain.
Nor to hear such blasphemy
Ever in my life again.
White he was, an' starey-eyed,
With his hand pressed to his side.
"Now he raves," says Daddy Pike.
"He ain't wise to what he says.
Never have I heard the like
All me wicked livin' days."
"Raise him up a bit," says Blair.
"Put that pillow under there.
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