Q:
What way can man die better, than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his Fathers, and the Temples of his Gods?
A:
Old.
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The Flying Ship
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Who I am on face value:
- Joel Macbeth
- Australia
- I am only a slave poet And my chains are those that are worn like armor By the most foolish dictators idols to their own grotesque Bury me with my flute, a knife, coins on my eyes And say you knew I was unrepentant
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