Is man a beast in shirt and tie-made up in motley, purple dye?

O harlequin in vivid rags,
With suit of satin, checkered flag.
Saint in Adams garden grown.
Without a single sin, to atone.
In flowered reath stand resplendent,
And never again bow repentant

Then wolf in woolen sheepskin cloke,
With claws outstretched in clasping choke.
Drag your unsuspecting prey
to Stygian shade of never ending grey.