Sics his brute dog, Sly Boots does, and he smiles
when all the children scream and run about.
Mails the bill, Sly Boots does, and he grins
when he gets both the goods and money back.
Sly Boots, the killer, spreads his webs and whiles,
and when the fly is trapped, oh, how he’ll shout.
Sly Boots, the temptress, spreads her other things
and captures those whose needs assuage her lack.

Oh, so many traps to keep us worried.
Oh, so many ways to pin a lie.
Oh, so little need for all the poison.
So much need for living life unhurried.

Sly Boots, Sly Boots, please, let your anger die.
Its nicer out here with us in the sun.