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Be there wights and their throughs,
as the world moves and churns,
A great weight is cast upon.
A great change is set for dawn.
Be there wights and bright lights,
and the world is torn asunder.
Their homes and stools ripped,
with nary a cold shoulder.
Be there empty light and boulder,
for the wights displaced and older.
Dry nares are all I smell,
and I pray for a warm render.