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When the pyre is half consumed, the bystanders kindle the torches at the expiring flames and carry them into the neighbouring orchards, fields, and gardens, wherever there are fruit-trees. As they march they sing at the top of their voices, "Granno, mo mio, Granno, mon pouère, Granno, mo mouère!" that is, "Grannus my friend, Grannus my father, Grannus my mother."
Ffor yff he be pouere, and see another man havynge rychesse, wich may be taken ffrom hym be myght, he will not spare to do so, but yff that pouere man be right trewe. Wherfore it is not pouerte, but it is lakke off harte and cowardisse, that kepith the Ffrenchmen ffro rysynge.”
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