Double Button
It's a pun! Get it? Eh?!
The air was chill, the river calm,
Tall eaves a thoroughfare
For thieves of skill with crimson palm
To sift through summer air.
Their knives sharp as their hooded eyes,
Their movements swift and sure,
They climb the scarp as the crow flies:
Their purge will have no cure.
Look to the ward and bolt the gate,
Pray, if you can then flee;
With crooked sword and arrows straight,
Tonight they come for thee.
