The Duchess of Moisture's fortunes grew rosier
After the squadrons of shadows were gassed;
When the commands came to wear her cough forever;
When her spacecraft landed; when its blackness
Leeched out light; when the Duchess of our disease
Waved her flag and her black eyes glittered through portholes;
When the captains of barracudas, our countries
Secured now, came in from their patrols;
When, "Fraulein Moisture," they said, "we have taken care
Of Moonlight, the enemy of your people";
When we fought back with rocks and received these scars;
Yes, back then we had a song, the tune was simple:
"Plums and castles, sheepish one, soothe your forehead, love;
Dream of Moonlight, soft one; dream we'll never leave..., leave..."