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One of the local farmers when I was a kid used to let his cows out on the road to graze. He had a name for being a lazy sod, there was better eating in the ditches than there was in his fields.
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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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