Whatís at Stake Here
Oh, noble ray please release your prey!
His ghost white skin, has all but bubbled
And runs rancid, arenít you troubled
By your steady beaming over they
Who hide away from you, lord of day?
What have they hid, are you befuddled,
When at day, they have often cuddled;
And at night they laugh, and often play?
Their fangs sink in the salty sanguine
Seas of man and beast. You, who have thus
Driven this immortal man, to bite.
By excluding his pale complexion
And his lack of reflection. Oh cuss,
And curse the unwanted fangs of night!