I killed them, but they would not die. 
Yea! all the day and all the night 
For them I could not rest or sleep, 
Nor guard from them nor hide in flight. 

Then in my agony I turned 
And made my hands red in their gore. 
In vain - for faster than I slew 
They rose more cruel than before. 

I killed and killed with slaughter mad; 
I killed till all my strength was gone. 
And still they rose to torture me, 
For Devils only die in fun. 

I used to think the Devil hid 
In women?s smiles and wine?s carouse. 
I called him Satan, Balzebub. 
But now I call him, dirty louse.