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Oh, that's just plain witchy. And I really mean to put a b in that. And I particularly object to the knitting dig. I'm a knitter myself. Dare anybody mess with us wielders of pointy sticks!
No, you are not overreacting. That text is 100% pure b****.
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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