Alas! Alas! What hast thou done!
What muggins! That you'd dun,
In the dead of the night, an oldster,
Shrieking fiendishly as you clobber,
Resolute to write your terror tales,
In blood and bear on, in the grim wails,
Memories, raw and macabre as this,
In the minds of tiddlers as these.
What justice is it to lynch bare,
And leave at the mercies of fire,
A woman before her offspring,
Owing to hearsays of witching?
Are you not e'en greater heretics,
You brood of religious bolsheviks?
What hast thou done you fools!
Who makest thine foul rules?