Sang from the Heart,
Sire,
Dipped my Beak in
it,
If the Tune drip too
much
Have a tint too Red
Pardon the Cochineal –
Suffer the Vermillion –
Death is the Wealth
Of the Poorest Bird.
Bear with the Ballad –
Awkward – faltering –
Death twists the strings –
′Twas’nt my blame –
Pause in your Liturgies –
Wait your Chorals –
¦
While I +repeat your
Hallowed Name –
+ recite
Fate slew Him, but He
did not drop –
She felled – He did
not fall –
Impaled Him on Her
fiercest stakes –
He neutralized them all –
She stung Him – sapped
His firm Advance –
But when Her Worst was
done
And He – unmoved regarded Her –
Acknowledged Him a Man –