whose womanly death screams aroused my thirst for blood
who cowered before me, not man enough to face death
who moaned like a whore as I nailed him to a tree
whose potency I question after his ineffective thrusts
whose bad luck in combat was exceeded only by his bad luck with the women
who sought his place at the head of the table, only to lose his head when I struck it off
who was but a boy in a man's world