The Battle Cry
For Glory, a cry well-mocked and worn to dust
Away it's blown like ash –to ashes burned
Amongst detritus. Rise, arise my lord
And obtruncate pathetic mortals who trust
Obtusely good will triumph. Magic turned
A deathly shade of mayhem plus discord.
And why? For what do eldritch mystic bony
Albeit rotting corpses rally 'round?
A symbol or concept grand enough to bound
Undead and paranormal chaps moany.
Always a stroke of evil wins th'money,
Though not of now. A cry prevails around
Undead of every creed. Alight a sound
So pure so great! A ringing cry: For pony!