Skeptic is can not, and Pride is will not
And little Fear is shall not. These are men
Who live inside a house upon a plot
Of fertile land. Who meet now and then
To break china and burn tapestries.
They draw the curtains oer the windows tight
And sit down to feast on my head and knees.
Misery comes round for tea, spies the fright
And joins them. They all have a grand old time
So full of themselves they were blind to see
Doubt and Hope who now exalted O crime
O shame for youve eaten Humility!
Misery, Pride, Fear, and Skeptic all fled
Poisoned by their own greed and now theyre dead














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