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"Dear Sir," saith she, "why dost thou cry
Hiding thine face 'neath the Tree of Death?
For the beast, good Sir, be long gone
An nary a singular trace be left."

"I long to die mine final tyme
Hiding mine face 'neath the Tree of Death
For that beast, long gone, hath tortured me
An from me mine love he hath bereft."

He proceeded to tell his terrible tale
Hiding his face 'neath the Tree of Death
The beast, it seemeth, hath smote his love
An with him proceeded to water's depth.

An here doth our tale reach its grisly end
Deep within the water's depth
The beast, you see, did dine upon his love
An of him nary a piece be left.

"And this," he spake, "is why I hide
Breathing my last 'neath the Tree of Death:
The beast, you see, is humanity
And I, a mere ghost of hope bereft..."