Monday, April 25, 2011

U is for . . .

The undead I dread aren't the wights I might fight
Or the ghoul who might drool when he's bled.
The banshee ain't fancy and doesn't romance me—
Skeletons & shadows the same; I've never lost faith
Facing down wraiths, and spectres cry at my god's name.
Vampires spook me but I know can't harm me
Though true ones don't sparkle (for shame!),
Zombies just shuffle unless they must hustle—
Yet fast ones fall quicker than rain
(The slow ones are scary, but easy to parry
And they really just want to eat brains).
No, the bastard I dread out of all the undead,
The one that always does the trick—
Is that miserable corpse—Oh, that terrible corpse!—
The Horned King himself, the Lord Lich!

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