You turned and beat it once more on the head with your club -
such words, such cruelty.
How could you not think it would die,
culled like a seal pup?
We dragged it home and propped it up in the corner.
Now and again you try to give it resuscitation,
but I know as you beat its chest that that it is dead.
Can you not smell the stink of its decay?
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