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97 Zoorhs One glimpse around, varying acts; Money transfer. Everybody digs their way out of this swarm. The leaders in this crowd hawk, Swap from hand to hand, And no spec of them is seen, Duped flabbergasted, In agony dare not shout out. If they do, to bury the hatchet, The exalted hawks lull’em. The digging goes on, footprints left…. Why can’t our watch dogs take them in the act? Goats graze as far as the tether can go. Great prints leave’em when shackled; With bones smelling around, our dogs hunt not. Oiled are their lips. Why bother them? ...

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