Scour and scrub this bloody mess,
Wring the mop down the murder hole.
All hail, Scotland, and mead all around
The butcher’s head’s on a barber’s pole.
But take it from me, and I should know
This crowning act goes not so clean.
Sin lurks always at the door.
And not just for your fiend-like queen.
Ever since our first rebellion
Plucking power to feed our lust.
Bloody thanes, far east of Eden,
Stake their claims with cut and thrust.
Castle caged by chains of being
I washed my hands in the holy font
Water bloodied by those before me
So save your righteous denouement.