Black Mrs. Behemoth

In a room of the palace
Black Mrs Behemoth
Gave way to wroth
And the wildest malice
Cried Mrs Behemoth
"Come, come
Come, court lady
Doomed like a moth
Through palace rooms shady!"
The candle flame
Seemed a yellow pompion
Sharp as a scorpion
Nobody came...
Only a bugbear
Air unkind
That bud-furred papoose
The young spring wind
Blew out the candle
Where is it gone?
To flat Coromandel
Rolling on!