I spied a warren in an old churchyard –
A diocese of rabbits – all diseased.
By an affliction each of them was marred,
And every one I saw, it coughed and wheezed.
One hopped over and peered at me – I seized
It by the neck and looked into its eyes;
Blood-shot they were, the rabbit sniffed and sneezed,
Then said: “I am their leader – and my lies
They thought were truth, for they think I am wise.
This churchyard once was consecrated ground.
Now evil’s buried here in hope it dies;
But one day, when God wills, it will be found.
You ask me what has poisoned every soul?
You’ll find the answer down the rabbit hole.”