Yet still
He stares with silent unforgiving eye
Blood gushes forth from out his gaping pants
And yet stains not the ground! See! How he points
A bloody **nger, as he might accuse.

Is this a dagger I see before me?
Its handle pointing to my own pants

Two little boys had two little pants

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the galaxy lie some small unregarded yellow pants.

I can resist everything except pants.