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brassy braswell brat

bratcher brats bratsch
shall end! Scarce can my knees these trembling limbs sustain, And scarce
my heart support its load of pain. No taste of sleep these heavy eyes have


known, Confused, and sad, I wander thus alone, With fears distracted, with
no fix'd design And all my people's miseries are mine. If aught of use
thy waking thoughts suggest, (Since cares, like mine, deprive thy soul of
rest,) Impart thy counsel, and assist thy friend Now let us jointly to

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