When the tongue becomes a clapper in a cardboard bell,
when words fall dead from the air with a charnel smell;
when all that's right and good are declared to devils be,
And fools all sing the praises of each vile depravity:
Then wear you their derision with a kind of humble pride,
For 'tis no shame to garner such from people dead inside.
And should they corner you, stand fast upon your ground,
For better to be a noble ghost, than a cuck the world renowned.
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