Cork, he stole your strecharmstrong!

Oh this dreary night does bring some demise, a slaughter preconceived, a horror that hits so close to home your unborn babies hide in fear, this distance must remain firm so that my thoughts remain in the gutter, then I began to notice star shaped lights shinning down on a hunting gypsy, then I set my gaze up and those lights were real stars, they were so bright they could be seen through the clouds, no game tonight, nor in the morrow, we stay peaceful for the time being and hunt again when to Gods hide their petty faces.