Thy angels hath not spoken,

While thy devil speaketh his sermon.

Thy birds flyeth through the clouds,

As bourgeois cryeth on the ground.

Although bourgeois first chanteth nay,

They joineth the soldiers in thy chant of yay,

As thy final nail hath been placed.

 

Turmoil hath strike thy land,

As thy stairway to heaven ceaseth to stand.

The rain cometh down from the sky,

Signifyeth the Lord hath died.

Never banal was thy scene,

A myriad of townspeople cameth to convene,

As thy final nail hath been placed.