Bathory

The old crows cry the first warning
The rumbling frozen ground the last
Hooves thundering on the three feet snow
The icy dawn yet to begin
Bursting through the icy morning
four times five black shadows ahorse.
Seel glimmering in the awakening sun`s light.
And blood colours the white snow red.
Cries echoes through the dark deep woods.
Open wounds steam in the cold morning air.
And the new day was greeted with a burden
both raped and dead.
Long golden scalps hung by the old twin headed
beasts standard black