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he Peasants' Tale: everemoore

bifore we cud live proper
bifore udders cum an close us off
bifore me an she
wer driven owt this lyf
by riche cuntree heigh
with no kynde
hoo bild moore fenses
an put up sins
bout moore trespas

i cant reed til god
butt i no wat yow mens
ye dont let us in
kep off thee seyn
butt wher shood we live
me felawe man dclare
butt wher cud we live
on noon lond
noon noonmanslond
with no voys
wher cud we gras shep
an bleet in wende
an try an live as folk
noon jus as props fer cuntree heigh
we need lond fer livin
taint proper wot yow deed
hym an me stil dclare
taint proper wot yow deed
butt thyn fenses
cant stoop me an she
beth redy for to meete us
callen in the wind
cros feelds an feelds an tyme
cros tyme an poverte
we wol namoore lye dun
namoore lye dun
butt wilt blooom fer now
an fer everemoore
fer everemoore
beth everemoore

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