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| Will this perilous march never be over? | |
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| We must reach the fort before sunset, though our legs fall off trying. | |
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| Throu' rain, throu' sleet, throu' bombardiers' blaze, the March of the Beat must endure. | |
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| Thou' day is hot and muscles are shot, beret is tattered and torn. | |
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| Wait ... I just noticed that you are a fish. | |
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