Make my heart into a cottage pie.
Already it is minced and lies estranged
My enemies insult me with their lies
And my last will and testament is made.
An onion and a carrot chopped up fine,
Saute with these my heart till all are gold
With herbs and spices I will taste divine
A mashed potato will a rooftop mould.
Do not forget my blood to use as sauce
Though now it’s cold, with garlic make it boil.
For what is gravy but the blood of choice
With sliced onion fried in olive oil?
O foes and devils eat me and you’ll be
Transformed into myself, your enemy.