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Have you not wondered where Rangers get their sand?
Cloaked folks on a beach, mojitos in each hand?
Upon towels they lie?
Unseen by the Great Eye?
Souvenired in pockets, from a sun-kissed land?
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Have you not wondered where Rangers get their sand?
Cloaked folks on a beach, mojitos in each hand?
Upon towels they lie?
Unseen by the Great Eye?
Souvenired in pockets, from a sun-kissed land?