I saw a bride splendid in white garments
I saw a woman with one hundred children 
The children plump and firm within her arms,

The moon was married last night
and nobody saw,
dressed up in her ghostly dress
for the summer ball.

What do we do with a difference?
Do we stand and discuss its oddity
or do we ignore it?

Do we shut our eyes to it
or poke it with a stick?
Do we clobber it to death?