Pride is a cunning little devil
that prances and cavorts,
And pokes its' nasty little fingers
into the corners of men's hearts.

It pricks us here and there,
Like a daily habit worn.
A reminder of the other things,
of love lost, and love scorned.

Oh, foolish pride, oh fiendish pride,
on your altar we have lain,
Amid the ashes of our treasures,
offered all in vain.