What’s at Stake Here

Oh, noble ray please release your prey!

His ghost white skin, has all but bubbled

And runs rancid, aren’t 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!