When guilt burst forth, at Menden's door
We could not speak, we did not know
The toll the rage of men might seek
Through witless priests and burning snow
That Sword was forged in Elwen's fyre
With magic signs embossed in vain
The power of steam in crooked lines
To cleave the brows in villainous twain
Thus Emnoch came to shield the world
A hero's hero of countless girth
The ***** of shame that numbered zero
A blade arrived to state his worth
This dismal feast of brutal love
Will never sate a horse's tune
Senescence and honor entwined in fate
He ever swells that liquid boon
Asunder sliced was Denzhen Yeep
Just as Vile Ben wast slain
The Witches Five broke on the Pile
A magic Pentagon of pain
But do not braise the glance of morn'
We cannot love what has not hair
Embrace the stench of Emnoch's glove
His tale is there for you to share
Tale as old as Thyme