Thus one Othello was, you know,
Black as the plumage of a crow,
And yet the white Miss Desdemona
Loved him as well as flies love honey.
The car of Venus, bards have sung,
Was drawn by doves, when I was young,
But then, were black birds substituted,
Ourself for one were better suited.
We’re rather darkish hued ourself,
Yet will annihilate the elf,