AtLast_[07]

Equine runes for ruined hearts And, if such taps remain, Pipe your conscience to their brains. Our want requires balanced juries Not more Hectors dragged for glory. Phoenix of your pall Lift aloof above the fray, Inflame a few or burn them all In flair of your own way. Don't be doused in manly fury. Suck their poison, Spit our story." Thus, I lay this mattock down In hope of striking fertile ground. So, please don't fail me patient friend You Are the field I tend. How it was: Noxious gaseous vapors rising. Terror hounded victims crying. Children, bludgeoned, Dying. A girl of twelve who, pleading, fled Shot, at close approach, Lay dead. Six bullets in her head. "This one's for the devil Pope!" Bang !

A bullet through her ear. "Here's to Catholic hope!" Bang ! Bullet two through failing tears." "For Maria Monk! " Bang !