| A peaceful town down by the lake
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| A cradle of goodness and righteousness it was said
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| Quite prosperous one might add
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| Rye fields, cattle, and the riches of the lake
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| Fallacious was their dormancy of shelter
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| Blindfolded had they themselves with the shadow of the cross
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| This dormancy lasted until a dusk in August
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| A preacher came, handsome enough to wet any lady
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| He was greeted with warmth and friendliness
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| Though a bit of jealousy showed on the looks of the men
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| Nobody wondered why he spoke no words of god
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| And his eyes were glued to women’s bodies
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| Nobody simply paid any attention to it
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| Especially the women enchanted by his attractiveness
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| Until one day the paint on the church walls began to crumble
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| The crop festered and the cattle began to die
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| The wives disappeared just before midnight
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| Only return before the first rays of sunrise
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| It began to show at the end of the month
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| The crop and the cattle dead, ground frozen, famine awaited
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| Vanished was the atmosphere of honesty and good will
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| People became wary of each other for anybody could have
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| Evoked this curse upon them |