The sous-chef of the albinos says
I'm in charge of cooking, baking and roasting
and in this hell-stance my delusions rules the roost
I've got the Crème de la crème and arsenic in tincture
prepare the grills and flames for a banquet of homicidal delight

Get that deer, King of the forest and protector of all
heave that Buck down, none but I holds power in this domain
its times of discontent, green eyes and walking dead are hungry
from challis of Madam White Snake and the shroud of San Lucifer
a sacrifice, a sacrifice for cold hearts and all mothers of the spawns

The belly crawlers and spawns in Hades kitchen toil
to high jack the mind of this regal imposing stag unsurpassed
hounded, mud-spattered, neither the raging winds nor savage beasts
snares and putrid guile's, poisoned mindless and shameless tarring
the buck bedded in Mother Nature in solace true and enduring light

So the sous-chef of the witless albinos says, no matter...
lets get a clone of that regal buck, sharpen knives and slice away
pepper, season hung, drawn, quartered, boil and simmer all the way
go tell tales of our magnificent menu, that stag is ours, for the eating
a merry feast for you all, pieces of eight for the dead deer's chest, ahoy, ahoy, ahoy.....!!