With the Green Man, never gamble
Lest you want a mind of bramble.
Forests can be light and airy
But nymphs will not return your query.
Your path is strewn with roseless thorns
Unless you have met that Man with Horns;
All a-green, inclined to rove
Stepping out of darkling grove.
With intention plain as leaves:
Like nature, he often deceives.
And yet, in this deception
He meets, not always, sad reception
For his penchant for conception
Makes the Horned God a glad perception.
(Sometimes!)
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