74.

Mr. Cole:

"Nigh over there's a man I hate.

He'd have us reconcile with coiled up snakes. 

He's had it easy and calls all fine. 

I'd make a noose of this here line

Save that would never teach him right. 

I'll preserve me like a pickle. 

So's to be close when winds turn fickle. 

And then I'll hit him with the beam of light

So all can see him scuttle in the night. 

For all his truths are lies. 

I'll eat him when he dies."