"Doubtless, that hat must own a head—
That swords a sign of guilt,
And, in the traitress to my bed,
I'll plunge it to the hilt.
"Well for her swain if, to his side,
His sword had still been buckled,
In his heart's blood it shall be dy'd
For making me a cuckold.
"My wrath shall hurl my victims now
Down to the realms of Pluto!