And the Lenty Slowworm curses God

For the sake of the rain-elf’s pitifulness.

He lifts his head from the watercress,

He lifts his head from the quaker-grass,

From the hoof-marks where the cattle pass,

He lifts his head from the heavy sod,

And under the loosestrife he curses God!

And the newts and the tadpoles who where she lay