A beast o’ green with yellow crown
O’ertakes the landscape all around.
Mowing men and women down
With claws set deeply underground.
No fearless Knight doth dare confound
The countless creatures’ battleground.
Can ya hear that mournful sound
O’ cries o’ fear from dusk to dawn?
Lovers o’ the fallen ones’
Vengeful tears cry out for war!
Picks and pikes, shovels and swords,
Off to snuff the most awful o’ hoards.
Ripping and tearing the mighty cords
O’ the beasts’ behemoth legs and claws,
Until, at last, the growls and roars
Are ne’er but heard in tales of lore.