As I was out a-riding over pleasant hills of green,
beneath a sky of cornflower blue where larks sang all serene,
I heard a distant hoof beat drumming loudly ‘cross the land,
and I saw a horseman riding with a bow strung in his hand.

Upon a steed as white as snow he galloped like the wind,
and carried awful knowledge of how oft mankind has sinned.
Upon his head he wore a crown that dazzled like the sun,
and he aimed a headless arrow for to conquer and have done.

Behind him came another on a horse of fiery red;
a mighty sword he wielded as along his way he sped.
I shouted “Where is it you ride, and what’s that great blade for?”
He laughed and answered, “Always, friend, I take the road to War!”

And as I watched him vanish in the blue horizon’s haze,
a black horse trotted by me with its rider’s eyes ablaze.
He carried rusted iron scales that never more would weigh,
and he named the price of famine that Humanity must pay.

The day grew bleak as winter and the green hills turned to grey.
As birds fell dying from the sky, I turned and rode away.
My own horse snorted madly, and his steaming breath did writhe,
as I spurred his pale flanks onward, and again I swung my scythe.