While diligently working last night, and posting hateful comments, I stumbled across this lost quatrain of Nostradamus. I've been staring at it all morning but I'll be damned if I can figure it out.
Bats what be from moon start circling the great city,
Great plagues arise as hordes inhale the toxic guano fumes,
The printer tries to save the wretched city, but hordes remain steadfast
Crippled birds replaced by fresh fowl, bat shit stuck on brooms.