A world of complex ironies
How my actions breed uncertainties–
That I should desire change,
Yet cherish antique hedge;
And for want of peace take arms.

Protection I beg of the almighty,
But would not deign fortify my city.
For want of hide my lamb I slaughter'd;
And to create path my cocoa tree uproot'd.

On my farm weeds of rank proportion grows
But my children by the day roams
And at night would they on rickety bed yawn.

Friends would in my kitchen fetch fire
To keep their children warm at night
My mouth wilde agape I admire
When there I pay to catch a sight
And my children dies of cold
Since darkness consoles them all night
Would not neighbours observe my beauty
And c'nclude firmly, I am my dear'st enemy?. . .