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, its words were simple;
They made us believe that one forgets pain,
That the gift in afterwords is that sweetness remains...