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And yet you seek to close the only places
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in which they can warm their meager meals every seventh day.
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Hear me, Scrooge.
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There are some upon this earth of yours
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who claim to know me and my brothers,
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and do their deeds of ill will and selfishness in our name.
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These so-called "men of the cloth"
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are as strange to me and my kin as if they never lived.
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Charge their doings to them, not us.
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I will.
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Smell that?
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Cooking goose!