| While we sit anxious around the bonfires
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| Trying to think of things to say
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| All is lying at the very brink
|
| I guess, we’ve seen enough today
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| Aye, it is with truth I say:
|
| All fierce to avenge we were
|
| As Job has fallen prey
|
| This night was just a blur
|
| His spirit we will cherish
|
| To mourn — we have no time
|
| The wicked’s light shall perish
|
| His spark of fire shall not shine
|
| Aye, it is with truth I say:
|
| All fierce to avenge we were
|
| As Job has fallen prey
|
| This night was just a blur
|
| His spirit we will cherish
|
| To mourn — we have no time
|
| The wicked’s light shall perish
|
| His spark of fire shall not shine
|
| The bo’sun placed his hand with dread
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| Over the poor lad’s heart
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| Job — so mangled and be — bled
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| And the boy moved not ever again
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| Our bonfire well naked
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| Sent up mighty pillars of flame
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| The next morning’s dawn we waked
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| There was a great wind and rain
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| I hope some day, friend
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| You’ll be back on peaceful soil
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| The least said the better
|
| Gotten rid of all |