Four score, four score, yet all abhor
Such ghast, ungainly faces,
And all the years of nevermore
Are lost among their paces,
For every one of those damned races
Commands the plane of fear,
And all the years with all the tears
Are nothing now and here.
Nor everything, nor all between
Can close behind them steer,
Lest lost they be to salt and sea
That so misguides their peers.
And yet I see them, phantom demons,
Dancing in the shadows.
Four score, four score, yet all abhor
Such ghast, ungainly fellows.
Nor all the years of nevermore
Should ever mute their bellows,
And all the pain of midday's bane
Comes swift and sure and mellow.
And they doth laugh, those bastards quaff
As if the Earth were demon,
Nor they alone could rule its throne,
Against the will of heathens,
And thus they leave as silent drones
As doth the sunrise burn them,
And all at last, so swift and fast,
Abandon they and cursed them.
So darkness fell and all of Hell
Was then unleashed on all men.
Four score, four score, yet all abhor
Such ghast, ungainly demons
As they are even in themselves,
Among the sins of heathens.
Four score, for score, yet all abhor
The ghastly blight of reasons.

8/4/04