St. Trides

‘Twas a Friday the trides of April this year
Yet nary a good god was found
In heavens above
Behind mine red eyes
Nor two miles deep underground

‘Twas twilight the trides of April this year
From whence quarter-sized hail did spew
That black gaping mouth
Spat antarctic flesh
To pay a cold devil his due

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St. Trides

Sock it to me

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