Lend not fire nor fat nor salt,
The items of mirth and the household gestalt,
Give not thy butter, thy tears, or thy flames,
Unless you know of their weakness; iron scissors and names,
Nary thee give away sparks to thy tallow,
The sweat of thy brow- the blood of thy marrow,

Because the fishes and fairies will promise you wings,
A chance to belong amongst those mystical things,
The warm waters that cleanse you are becoming a broth,
The weight you feel lifted is fat foaming to froth,

Clear out your debts, be sure that they're paid,
Lest your hot water bath be your last marinade,
The ocean that calls them is only salting your skin,
While they season your outsides they pretend to be looking within,

Lend not fire nor fat nor salt,
The items of mirth and the household gestalt.