seems cotton went sky high.catch the cotton loving eye.the buy is market price.dont go easy if they go nice.the rice to chinamen in wooden bowls, or so i was told by the many old.a flannel shirt on a hanger in a closet.where is the tea party coming from boston? the lost one, boys, comes in slow and injured.defend her, this fort, with your very lives.and tonight we will kill and eat our wives.
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I would like to translate this poem