Nimble foe you've taken plenty o' life,
Condemned spirits of right to disdainful strife,
And illness of absence at that of departed,
Wrongfully beseeched at what you'd started.
And here with these twigs, I abolish at once,
Unable to return to these lands for months,
And shall we meet again at the glimpse of eye,
Let it be known that thou be sentenced to die -
Employed upon you ever so swiftly,
And might you remember such last moments stiffly.

Here I warn you once, no more,
And command you away from this land you'd tore,
For your existence has given thee such shame,
It is all but you, you are to blame,
And for once might you realize in agony, in fame,
Your callous actions have set surefire to name,
Alas, may you conclude tis' not a game,
As you walk among a blaze, for you are the flame -
At once, which all, seize to burn out,
Shan't you menace and retort with incentive to spout,
Rejection, forevermore, your friendly bloom,
Yet now even disgust stay wretched in Moon;
So that one day might you seek to learn,
That dissenters hereby are condemned to burn.