My lovely pistachios march over the waves. Why not sing the triumph?!
The pistachios not so blest as thee,
Shall in their turns to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule, Pistachios! Pistachios, rule the waves:
Pistachios never never shall be slaves.
Hail, Pistachios!
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