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and the darkness thicketed with shapes of terror,
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and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing,
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and the night cold and the night long
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and the river, to cross
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and the jack-muh-lanterns beckoning beckoning beckoning,
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and blackness ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere morning
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and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going.
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Runagate, Runagate, Runagate.
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Many thousands rise and go,
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many thousands crossing over.
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O mythic North, O star-shaped yonder Bible city.
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Some go weeping and some rejoice and some in coffins.