Here we woe as here he lay,

The body of the infamous DeathofMay,

Who was wronged and swore they would pay,

But he did not live to see the day.

The men who shunned him for his views,

He was a target they had to abuse,

Hunting him without any excuse,

But they really only lit the fuse.

But since they could only anger him,

Their lives soon turned grim,

He picked them off with just a whim,

No longer would he be the victim.

His rage knew no end,

But the battle wounds he had to tend,

But to his dismay, they would not mend,

So it was then he had to ascend.

He is told by angels to repent for his sins,

But he is not sorry, he only grins,

But with nothing that the angels could discern,

They sent him down, doomed to burn.

Now he resides,

The patron of revenge,

Watching over all of the ones,

Who seek to hunt the ones who wronged them,

Now feel secure,

Because he now guides your deeds.

So now we curse as here he lay,

The one whose skin has turned ashen-gray,

Reluctant to go but couldn’t stay,

Now we spit and curse as we say,

Farewell the demon, DeathofMay.