He fired a clever canon: Peace— Began a war; at first a gentle breeze, A gale, a storm of disobedience. A tempest that tremor’d the Earth. And broke the bone of Britain's back. And led in time to Freedom's birth. Slight freedom though, for him, wasn't hence, Who'd lived all his life for Unity, Whose sword was the force of Trunity. Hunted for liberty in jungles deep an’ dense, He caught it, got it, stained in separation, For Time to see the tearing of the nation. Tha’ compro never did him please, Until his breath was made to cease.
The Writings of The Umar Ecrivain