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from Brown Corpus
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Old, tired, trembling the woman came to the cannery.
She had, she said, heard that the plant was closing.
It couldn't close, she said.
She had raised a calf, grown it beef-fat.
She had, with her own work-weary hands, put seeds in the ground, watched them sprout, bud, blossom, and get ready to bear.
She was ready to kill the beef, dress it out, and with vegetables from her garden was going to can soup, broth, hash, and stew against the winter.
She had done it last year, and the year before, and the year before that, and she, and her people were dependent upon these cans for food.

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