by: Steven Ilchev, 2009
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O England, thou every bit of scenic solace
for thy roarin' fans!
I thee carry sounder than a jinglin' pound...
in me 'eart of mellow 'earts
And on me sleeve with ample swagger
signifying Treasure Island's trinkets'
fading avarice-appeal,
I'm staggered!
O England I thee adore,
for thee I'd haemorrhage profusely
like a panther
Down but ne'er out beside peace-propagating
standing stones
and stone circles' whis'prin' yet arousin'
tendencies, remarkable!
England, England bind our 'earts,
let them not disperse like wingless darts
as flags blood-red and flashy white
levitate not so discreetly on our
horizons multiplied!
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