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!