Nick's sword of mischief is ready,
The thrusts to be ever steady
For those he is sure are heady,
Now controllable, soon an eddy...
Nick's challengers need steely sword,
Until they accept a Made Lord,
Palm wine has failed with its swell gourd;
No one has ever pleased a horde.
Nick shall reached throats slash with his sword,
Now it's without doubt the Spring...
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