We marched on through and through,
we trudged on though the jungle it grew.
Five days in the cavernous
crawling castle of King Cavendish.
He met our men not with sword,
but with wine and promised all
a magickal time.
We told them tales of serpents at sea,
of sultry sirens who sung songs so slowly.
Seven sisters with father in need.
Robotic men hellbent with greed.
They raised cups filled up with mead
and passed pipes filled with
Their men raised up,
their eyes emitting a terrible light.
The king bellowed.
He grew fangs what a terrible sight.
They attacked us,
those monstrous men hungry for flesh.
A few escaped though.
I bet those animals have eaten the rest.
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