8 Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land.
9 And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword.
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face.
11 For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me.
12 At [my] right hand rise the young brood; they push away my feet, and raise up against me their pernicious ways;
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