At the peak of midnyt,
I have caught sight
Of a surrounding fellow
With words he would bellow,
What a perfect nyt to make shallow,
To dive deep, not wallow.
Is there any other way, I ask,
Without these, no more mask.
I beg to differ is what i would utter,
Not you ever, nothing, i will mutter.
What a night of the forge,
Not I, you can scourge.
My peak of madness is what you seek
Before midnyt, I am meek.

1.8.