Dracul van Helsing had a lamb
Whose fleece was fervent white
And every time he picked a fight
With me he lost a round little light
In his forehead where he should have known
He could not be.
Then he found that if he pleaded
With me and kneeded
The bread of slaughter that he
Loved so dear
Then he could without a sham
Be them as to know it so.