If I be true and sail a sea from false,

Til old’s so old it has forgot its self,

And storms have razed the ragged mountains tops,

And rains reforested the Amazon,

Then let memory,

From mind’s mad, muddy river make

An inland sea for my veracity.

When they have said, “As true as north, as south or east or west,

As drop to puddle,

Water to its fall,

As stream to lake,

And river to the great ocean.

Then let them say, to flash flood the heart of falsity —

As true as Randy.

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