Seekth My Soul Thou Wicked Deciever

Written by: Mark Goodson

Art thou the wicked deceiver who cometh dawn or dusk
Once a dweller in the heavens who wrought scorn unto thy Creator 
In the ancient of days did he cast thee a loft
Thus becoming caddish as cag-mag
A drab locked away in Bridewell’s gaole
Whilst thou parlayed the garden’s bouquet as the Grinder Seeker
Who stood a midst the knowledge tree and offered nary but one
One bite will make thee greater than He
One taste shall wit thy mind 
Maker of gray betwixt black and white a savory eater of men’s souls
Doth thou cometh this blackish hour to carry my wicked soul home
Sheath thy forkth tongue  
Shake down thee to ever more hell
Henceforth to dwell ever the more ye will
In mere of fiery waters
Waiter of the wittle of rotten and Evil- Forsooth! Forsooth! Thy dream
Dost not the coddish fear and tremble while thou holdth Bilbo high
Hearth lay thy saber- blood stained pudhly with the souls of mankind 
Thou monstrous shadowed deceiver
Mankind no longer doth the grave bind
Get thee behind me Satan 
For thy Kingdom is no more
A son of David hath beautifully bequeath a love for all mankind
Resist not the righteousness this judge of Adam
Who doth sit at the Creator’s right side
I stand in judgment as my soul is the bounty
For now thy claim for my-self is thus been denied