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LOLLINGDON DOWNS
47
They hanged Will
As Will said,
With one thrill
They choked him dead.
Jane walked the wold
Like a grey gander;
All grown old
She would wander.
She died soon.
At high tide
At full moon
Jane died.
The brook chatters
As at first,
The farm it waters
Is accurst;
No man takes it,
Nothing grows there,
Blood straiks it,
A ghost goes there.
