Blighted Doom shone her ugliness 'til men wept without repair.
Cowered and broken by such disaster,
Fight upon fight with no survivor,
A tune shy of harmony and of pace,
The men simply shattered.

Thus satisfied by what she'd born,
Doom stole past the dawn, flying on into ladies' dreams,
only to be warned.

"Tread not here, promiscuous Doom, we've blood in our mouths for you."

Spitting violence towards Doom's way, the women laughed in tune.  
Surrounding her in a ringed rosie,
prodding her on with a jealous melody,
pinching her nose and stripping her bare,
chasing her breathless until...

Around she turned, that mischievous Doom, fleeing her same way,
while coyly the sisters winked to her and locked elbows in victory.  

Then...the ladies entered the gentlemen's room daintily filling the ear
with hushes and cooing and kisses so fine,
the men's spirits were verily soothed.
So on to on and on and on to on and on they lived on.