We were told to take a chill pill,
While the volcano is raging at the uphill.
The zealous battle is wangled at bastille
Of zealous and fiducial citizens locked in darkside of foothill.
Our hope is dashed at the riverbank,
where is our canoe and pedaling plank?
Alas! we shall perish at expense of smolder dank
No one to build us a gangplank.
Our tears is more than the Atlantic oceans,
Yet our tears joined to fill the joyous oceans.
Shouting and wailing find us no amelioration
Because the volcano is dashing out with rage.
Alas! Our leaders has lead us to boneyard,
To prepare and secure our last courtyard.
Leaders has served us neck-cranny canard
As our breakfast at the wholly barnyard.
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