| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - My mother was a daughter of a pious farmer, Her father trusted a son of an earl, And she at her adolescence winged her willow cast, The aristocrat swine, took her away for feast of wine, Then she was a sale, in a brothel, Some months before my tragic birth.I remember my early teen, When I was less than fourteen, The greedy eyes and swell tongues, From my mother???s clients upon me hang.I remember
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