Strips of your cur hide
Trickling with black blood
To met thirsty sand
Below a thicket of briars

Still in your agony
This last is not an innocent breath
See me your enemy
Flagon in hand – drinking to your death

May this be not the very end
But curse your ghost too
Damned may it be to pits in hell
For your vile fiendish deeds

Murder was your art
Scoffed you did and laughed
At my promise from the start
For the pain delivered by your hand

Bile comes forth as I think of you
Crimes and your guile
Poisoned my dear brother
To steal a newlywed bride

Latter you choked with labored breath
As I loosened your pride
Stout this oaken staff
Breaking you brutal and true

And what of the father
Who did turn you down
To court his widowed girl
Spite found a home in you

Oh yes – she did know
Your hand behind the knife
Found in her father’s back
You are guilty of such strife

Coward in your acts
Stealing in the night
A love that did not
Would not, love you back

Swine now you are dead
So I lift my toast
Rot you bastard
Rot