By the wells burning light. What so proudly siegheiled, at twighlights last greeding. Whose lash stripes and brown arse, though perilous tight, O'er the rampants we watched, where so gallivantly streaming? And the italian' red eye glare, the bums busting in air, Gave proof through the night that our dick was still there. O say, does that star-spangled franger yet wave O'er the land of the twee and the home of the slave?
