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Better to bite dry bread,
When eaten in peace;
Than fresh ones instead,
Where wars will not cease.
A wise slave can be,
Master over son;
Acting shamefully,
Of what must be done.
You pay attention,
To the wicked lips;
But my intention,
How many warships.
We open up ears,
We open up eyes;
To take away fears,
Make wisdom to wise.
But cheats open ears,
With slanderous tongue;
He increases fears,
As insults are flung.
Insult another,
Same as punching face;
Slandering brother,
With a disgrace.
They will not elude,
Punishment thereof;
With being so rude,
And such caring love.
The crown of old men,
Is a grandchild;
And glory again,
When they are mild.
Copyright © 2013 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Dry Bread
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