Classic Poem

His prancing steed
He throws down with the knight,
It pushes the macabre dance
Turning the hourglass.

With a skull playing bowling
The arbors cabarets,
Lame breaks crutches,
Runner cut the shanks!

For model with its skeleton,
Poses varnish in the workshop.
Tear the painter's palette,
Proud as Job on his dunghill!

Shoot a bunch of weapons to master,
Secret and thoroughly well-Botte -
Takes the child to the mother in tears,
Ote his hobby to fool;

With the cape of Canon
Manages his snub mask
Sits in the stall of monk
He interrupts Oremus .

To put it hunts the throne
The Emperor, pale with fright,
And put on his yellow skull
Snatched the crown to the king.

Despite the keys and tiara
It takes the Pope at the Vatican
And, mocking, ballet weird
He danced the cancan!