Michael

Michael

This glaive has thrust through demon and dragon,

While steed charged headlong fearing not frenzy,

Our purpose as one, a bold MacKenzie,

With tartan beneath, and breastplate upon,

With courage we burst through every denizen

That dwelled in regions where harpies are wont

To scurry and scamper, and while they haunt

Nights, as coal mines, to provide specimen

Of their saliva, I clove off each tongue,

So stopped their foul screaming, while deeply flew

To torture the damned ones, toward Hades gate,

So lost beyond redemption was each one,

Like rich man while Lazarus last breath drew,

Had forged heavy chains, then it was too late.