As long as there’s a will, there’s a fray.

Will what you want, then prepare to swerve.

The will’s a pill for Jack and Jill.

When will met will, volition stood still.

Will once; act a bunch.

To will or not to will; now there’s the real high-rolling deal.

With our wills we may reform our souls.

The will is a small rudder, the emotions a great sea.

The will’s the piano that we play all day.

Each soul runs it own bootlegging still, to craft its own strong prohibition will.

With will we mill, swill, grill and shrill, and sometimes kill.

The precious swill of the best thrill we do not will.

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