If you should take my child ,give my hands strength to dig his grave ,cover him earth . Lord send a little man , for grass will grow.

If my house should burn down ,so that sting the nostrils ,making the eyes weep, then Lord send a little rain for grass will grow.

But Lord do not send me madness, do not send me moors hard madness to lodge shug in my skull.

I would like you to send me hordes of houses, gallopsing, crushing, but do not break the yalk of the moon on me .



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