From high up on Pilgarlic Tor we watched them march away to war. Away they marched, our foes to fight, and they put the robot men to flight. The big magnetic robots fled, and not a chap of ours was dead. They scattered, in their clanking way, to Timbuctoo and Mandalay. Our chaps marched home in triumph then, and so we sacrificed a hen. We wallowed in our poultry gore, victorious on Pilgarlic Tor.
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