On your way out
Do not pout
Nay slow not tarry ye heathen
I've known long of your thievin.
Betrayed I was
By a boy of round eyes and peach fuzz.

Taken my prizes were
By a child with a leopard's purr.
Twas in night much as this
That his presence I did miss.
For gone was he
Out the window did he flee

The scoundrel, rapscallion, fool,
For Twas beneath the window, a frozen pool.
Through the ice did he go
And a scream did he throw.

Fore drowning did he
That one what stole from me.