Riding at dawn, riding alone,
Gillespie left the town behind;
Before he turned by the Westward road
A horseman crossed him, staggering blind
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Ah, what a beautiful poem about the glories of a bloodthirsty coloniser who caused to spill the blood of people who were merely wanting their freedom back in their own homes. Nothing glorifies a murderer like a poem : )
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Ah, what a beautiful poem about the glories of a bloodthirsty coloniser who caused to spill the blood of people who were merely wanting their freedom back in their own homes. Nothing glorifies a murderer like a poem : )