This lamb now caged with lions;
Soon to ride with horses
Face my subjects,—
With an overwritten expression,
Cursed by ballyhoos of vultures.

What a lampoon to be drawn in humanity,—
As they pass to my sight,—
Praying for confession— For a blessing of a new fashion,
May the tomb be the veil of thy busts
Beating drums, I shalt not stagger.

On this stage,— I untied my cloth,
Withstand the shaken land,
I hear the wailing of the sand
Mary whines blood this end..
Her Son's sleigh sweeping me..
Thy queen shalt flood— her fabric traught's pile.

I knelt on the ground,—
People whimpered with no sound
—"Be tamed Black Stalwart, for thou
     art forgiven."
To here falls the dillydoun's saw...

     "The raging agony and weight of
       strife,— May I beseech for Mercy!
       God, save this ****** ghost!—
       Never wilt I feel the land again...
       Light, hoise me up,—when my face
       sheds.."

'Whence the uproar sham this throne blown!'
(THUD)