Back out of a boire, yes think up against a chair;
the big vassal Archfiend picked up her sour foot.
The moons out of earth listened up when she stood-
the big vassal Archiend awake from what ain't.

The chickens are highing, the rich grownup nods,
but big vassal Archfiend, yes laughing she wrecks.
You hate me, vassal Archfiend! Listen up to the ground,
and depart from your deathbed since night isn't far.

The Constraints