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    Braying like donkeys from the bushes,
        huddled together in the prickly undergrowth are
    Fools and sons of no-names,
        driven by lashes out from the bosom of the land.

Even the fools and outcasts use Job’s name as an insult. His character has been brought low by those who should be beneath him.

    And now they sing of me in taunt and parody,
        and make my name a byword among them.

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