Please don't think, Herr Professor, I intend

Defending Cain. Better than you, perhaps,

I know him, but know too the sort of lapse

Drink will induce – how it can blind and bend

And break. See Cain drunk, beckoning like a friend,

Thick stick in fist, an oiled smile on his chaps,

Wooing his brother hither. Then he taps,

Raps bone, draws blood, the swine, and makes an end.

Filthy? Oh, yes. Still, it was far from funny

Having to hear God hawking up his phlegm

To spit upon his parsnips and his honey

But not on Abel's sheep, no, not on them.

Born of the breed of men and not of mice,

Cain growled revolt then cut himself a slice.