THE MAN WHO SOLD KENTUCKY
This deal has no ending - the horsemen are lining
borders as they slide across the land. This shall be
which river slices between. And Mr. Jackson
hasn't crossed here yet. That was Henry Clay
you saw. Now the same thing running in the
meadow is the bluegrass-ruffling wind and all
seems as silence underneath the stars. We have
time to leave Virginia for westward grows our
destiny, and all those Baptist ladies give for free.
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