Flesh and blood,
It don’t take much pride.
Alas, you are all I have left now.
I’d rather see you dead,
Than a Compson.
I know you begrudge him,
Lowing like a cow.
We Bascbombs shall be punished for it.
With that little whore in the house,
I can stand it if you can.
You’ll be crying in a minute.
It doesn’t do any good.
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