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Mercian Hymns XVII

 He drove at evening through the hushed Vosges.
The car radio, glimmering, received broken utterance from the horizon of storms.
.
.
'God's honours - our bikes touched: he skidded and came off.
' 'Liar.
' A timid father's protective bellow.
Disfigurement of a village king.
'Just look at the bugger.
.
.
' His maroon GT chanted then overtook.
He lavished on the high valleys its haleine.

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