The Slang of the Lamb felt lousy tonight
Crammed up to its nose in Black Voodoo Magic.

It woke up late and killed a chicken
Boiled it with fine herbs in a large big pot.

Smeared with blood and down
The light caught it sideways
A Ted glimpsed at the Slang
And lump followed the bird.

Golden cloth and silver spoons
To whom bumps off the evil goon
A lord of the city
Declamed under the moon

Asit on a stall
Was a shiny girl with a little brooch.
Her dreams were bigger than her mind,
And sometimes they slipped out.

She went to the pot and put
A hand in the fuming mixture
Licked her fingers up to the bone
And soon sit on the Slang's throne.