Boil boil toil and trouble shakespeare


Frenzy hurried the chaunt, frenzy rattled the drums; The nobles, high on the terrace, greedily mouthed their thumbs; And once and again and again, in the ignorant boil boil toil and trouble shakespeare below, Once and again and again descended boil boil toil and trouble shakespeare murderous blow. Now smoked the oven, and now, with the cutting lip of a shell, A butcher of ninety winters jointed the bodies well. Unto the carven lodge, silent, in order due, The grandees of the nation one after one withdrew; And a line of laden bearers brought to the terrace foot, On poles across their shoulders, the last reserve of fruit. The victims bled for the nobles in the old appointed way; The fruit was spread for the commons, for all should eat to-day. And now was the kava brewed, and now the cocoa ran, Now was the hour of the dance for child and woman and man; And mirth was in every heart, and a garland on every head, And all was well with the living and well with the eight who were dead.
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