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Slabs of the Sunburnt West

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The strong men keep coming on.
They go down shot, hanged, sick,
 broken.
They live on fighting, singing,
 lucky as plungers.
The strong mothers pulling them
 on . .
The strong mothers pulling them
 from a dark sea, a great prairie,
 a long mountain.
Call hallelujah, call amen, call
 deep thanks.
The strong men keep coming on.

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