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Rule the Land

Pound! Pound! Pound!
With that wooden mallet!
Pound! Pound! Pound!
Go ahead and bang it!
 
Are you the judge?
Of what goes on?
Justice with a gavel,
Makes a sweet sort of song.
 
And wearing the powdered wig,
Was the old kind of gig,
In England it was used,
To make your job look big.
 
Pound! Pound! Pound!
It's in your hand!
Pound! Pound! Pound!
Now rule the land!
 
Today it's lesser known,
The wig has not grown,
But politics move on,
In the place I call home.
 
So what could society say?
If laws had gone away?
Chaos would take over,
And ruin the course of day.
 



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