Well I dunno', Meg bit her
lip, You've played your hand and lost
again, It seems each card you show
Prawn Is marked for scorn and tips us into
space, But that may be just as
well For those beady eyes are enslaved to
other beings That folks like us should
leave to go their way.
Ah Megan, catch your breath, the
gunner smiled, Though paths are wild and
wayward in dimensions we can't touch, And
pasteboard goblins have shadows like old Death, We stubborn mortals of Bungalamoo Can also cast a stone, can wield the ring that only the
life-blessed Are given power to bind upon
the shards of time, As Papa Pinkynose
should sense and fear.