The butcher knocks his victim on the head-
That's slaughter, for 'tis man who's to be fed;
The priest downs his, before the gods to set it,
That's immolation- pray do not forget it.
If I have made the difference distinct
My fingers to some purpose I have inked;
But then i stop- you'll have to ask the priest
Why gods who love the meat can't kill the beast.
Perhaps he'll give your question recognition,
Perhaps condemn your spirit to perdition.
2010 Update: The assurance of a martyr's rememberance by destruction of the souvenirs.