Breathe a sigh of reliefYou crooked misanthropes!
Let it out, your holding,
You insignificant imps!
Raise your stumps in fleshy hope,
Stamp your bottom in pride's stink,
Sidle up to the torture bar
And have yourself a drink!
Swill it down
And
Swig it `round
To your black-hell teeth,
Your rusted razor’s frame!
Then prepare the crow
Boiled in the blood of children,
Hand `round to devil’s kin
And sluice your just desserts,
For your demise will now begin.
