If to the planet Cykranosh you stray

Look out for pouty Hziulquoigmnzhah,

Bachelor uncle of Tsathoggua,

Who sucks his sustenance from lakes of gray

Metallic fluid, whence a rippling play

Of light from alien skies refluctant falls

Upon the columns of his caverned fane.

And if, O Traveler, you've half a brain,

You'll not presume to linger there and pray

Nor hang around and pass the time of day.

For Hziul from godship long ago withdrew

Within his cave to contemplate and brood

And sip at times his liquid metal brew.

Of worshipper he long ago grew weary,

So on his ponderings do not intrude

Nor breach his philosophic solitude.

If you are lucky, he will merely view

Your bold presumption with his toad-eyes bleary,

Extend his ell-long arm and gruffly say:

"Be on your way!

 

THE END.