With the old lady,sweet victory is more than guarranteed on its erudite template,kindled by its sweet Freedom beyond compare;For no price of freedom can be paid with verdict on the pallor sands,Not from thy benumb,do i then my verdict pluck,To think Thee bynecessity,beyond mere preponderance,the mayhem of a personage,A time bombwaiting to explode at Alupluto,fromthese Golden nuggets,have i dutifully pluck'd from thy stars,By oft mothernature rejoices in them,that in them inquietude be stillthy golden morn shall boon,And boomerang over distant lands yet unknown,And in this laurel,my pedagogues,have i prognosticate and shall hasten thee to accord thee golden morn,bequeath'd to triumphant hills undiscern'd,when thou art thy golden nuggets interr'd in this verses shalt observe,That history maybe rewritten,augean stable purged and Alupluto,a new leaf wears,Vaunt in thy smear,at self assertive strays,decrease a gaunt in its embryo and then impugns moult as deity,what declivity in this pallid friction then endears