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time here")—
It whispers ominously away off on the wind to the wheat-fields and the hop-fields—
It whispers till the heart is chilled—
It whispers till Ford and Suhr can hear it in Folsom.
A curse of whispering dust on the town of Wheatland!
A curse of sleep on the town of Wheatland!
A curse of hops on the town of Wheatland!
A curse of memories on the town of Wheatland!
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