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William Winters 1791

 

That night, as black as Coal hewer’s hands

 A sliver of moonlight edged the darkened cloud

A heavy fall of August rain fell onto the moor

That washed their faces, though heads were bowed

 

Her small cottage doubled as a village shop

High upon Northumberland’s, Elsden Moor, 

Mistress Crozier warmed by the heat of her fire. 

Heard a loud knock knock knocking, on the wood...

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I've seen the gibbettrue story

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