Hooves apon the earth did fall,
and in the air there rose a call,
in voice of bold, of war it told,
and of soldiers strong and tall.
I wish that I had not been near,
I wish that I could never hear,
those threats of old, all hard and cold,
to make the cruelest shed a tear.
We knew that it would come by night,
and apon every house we hung a light,
afraid of day, they would scare away,
to spare us one appalling fight.
But through the trees they struck at last,
and memories stirred of ages past,
in wars of old, I have been told,
these creatures could move terribly fast.
But far before I could raise alarm,
they raided use as if by charm,
their feet were light, and such a sight,
it was to see when they did harm.
And when they left destruction reigned,
to scan the wreckage truly pained,
so many dead, so little said,
that through generations the memory waned.
Years have passed, so long it has been,
but now at last they come again,
now no one knows, what are these foes,
no knowledge lies in the minds of men.
So let it be known that the stories of old,
must forever more always be told,
and may we avoid, again being toyed,
by creatures fitting a fantasy mold.