It takes no thief to catch a thief,
but somebody who can think like one.
It was he caught you up to mischief.
Ah yes you sure were undone.
No lady Robin Hood, though bold,
he finds that you've been around.
Like the robbeer barons of old
you're too taxing for his town.
So begone, yes so begone,
swift as an arrow that flies.
No thief though he can think like one,
he sees straight behind your lying eyes.
The poet made you immortal, girl,
by naming you in verse.
But how long is immortality?
The world will end. Far worse,
even the gods of very old
ended before the world is done.
But words give them immortality,
and man's not yet struck dumb.