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I'm not surely aware 
If I readily prepare 
To hunt for a red hare 
That is kind of rare. 
I ride on a pretty mare, 
With my head bare. 
At the target I stare, 
And meanwhile I blare, 
To make the hare scare, 
Which falls into a snare. 
 
I had a nightmare: 
There was a warfare, 
On a wide square, 
None yet did declare, 
Only sounded fanfare, 
Searchlights did glare, 
No life to spare, 
Only death to share. 
Who would really care 
For people's welfare? |   
 
 
 
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