I heeded the call of the Ormo,
Who led me to victory bright.
It was he who charged the velvet gates,
And peeled the peach into the light.
The women sang praises of Ormo,
“Oh Ormo! Oh Ormo!” they cried.
But Ormo would not hear them,
Nor could he bring himself to decide,
If they loved him for what he was,
Or if it was something much deeper.
So without such knowledge did Ormo,
Leave the land with his pan and his sweeper.
Ormo’s last stand.