Baami, when this chunk and that
shall cease to fill this your royal
bowl,what will I eat?
When this plate is pushed down by
your evening cloth to become a broken
China ware, with what shall I dish?
Tied here as a majestic cock in this
fortress of your pride,how shall I feast
this cult who applauds even your fart?
From where will I get the gin to
pour in the glass piped down to your
yonder throat like you do grandpa?
Baami, allow me learn where the mouth
of the canon is, if you do not want your cult
to see you atone before our fathers gone.