Thief (Poem)

A great white horse the thief does ride,

You pray that you don't cross his path,

For stripped of all clothes and of all possessions,

Are those who face the thief's wrath.

With a knife to your throat,

And fist to your head,

He will taunt and he'll gloat,

And if you rise you'll be dead.

For there's no one in anywhere

That's as good as he is,

All young women beware,

Cause he's a specially fond of y's...

The black thief rides on,

A legacy of dark deeds, and bold

Names, for he is the true Satin's son,

The highways will never be safe again,

Not till the black thief's dead and old.