A hundred year war clashing in style
Clinging at birds that jangle all the while
Poke the reader and set a soul free
Prayer for the poor in Purgatory.
Likened to the reign of a king long ago
Killed in the battle between those who fight low
Guile won't suffice for life is to be freeing
Lying only clouds the mind from clear seeing
Trouble abroad will grey the blue bird
While a talking swan will charge what's absurd
Drawing freely in hands that are chained
It is impossible to understand what remained
When the years of madness are finally over
The Lord will come down on a four leaf clover
Bringing with Him peace and calm serenity
He will ask His brothers and sisters to tea
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