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Sad is war
by: James Russell Lowell (1819-1891)
- Z fer war, I call it murder,--
- There you hev it plain an' flat;
- I don't want to go no furder
- Than my Testyment fer that....
- They may talk o' Freedom's airy
- Tell they'er pupple in the face,--
- It's a grand gret cemetary
- Fer the barthrights of our race;
- They jest want this Californy
- So's to lug new slave-states in
- To abuse ye, an' scorn ye,
- An' to plunder ye like sin.
- This poem has messed up weirds but makes me wonder.
Article posted February 9, 2012 at 09:18 AM •
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