"I was cutting wood for Poppa, on his lands, when I see three men shouting at me bout mur'dring them trees, they're beards were a swayin' in the breeze, O mercy, I swaer... I don't know, just wanted to help out my Poppa! Why would they be hear anyway, worrying themeseleves sick over our old toughwood? Please help me bring justice to my Poppas' bosom land, m'lord. There's cold hard gold to sweeten the deal, to."
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