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Prophets have honor all over the Earth,
Except in the village where they were born;
Where such its knew them boys from birth,
Naturally hold 'em in scorn.
There's nothing Nineveh Town can give
(Nor being swallowed by whales between),
Makes Up for the place where a man's folks live,
That don't care nothing what he has been.
He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this,
But they hate and they love him for what he is.