The light that dances by the spark
Peers down the cave through dim and dark,
Gives life to ropes of leafy vines
That crawl down deep into the mines
Where beats the heart of evil things
That softly calls the pride of kings
To brave the folly and behold
The depthless keep of blood and gold.
But waiting still beneath the shade
Are they who lurk with iron blade
To greet the king with crimson smile,
Whose crown falls neat atop the pile
Of all those felled by mortal fight
And passed beyond the view of light.