Crawl down to the floor
And lie bare
For men will come growling frighteningly-
One comes carrying fur
For the raid, or a scary sound.
(Once, I dealt hell-
Problems rose anew and growing-
No dreams of diamonds for me).
The duty is mine and mine alone
(With or without you)
I may sing as I run for the harbor.
Many tongues are slammed…
And many of his men owe a dozen
For drinking her foolish.
My home, a martyr.
Many yell for it, many chant
‘Til the festival charade grows
The fairground militia
Will carry attention and law
While guests will fall clutching a cigarette.