Screivit by Rabert E. Howard
The huim wis oan the muntain
An the starns war grim an frail
Whan the bauchens came fleein, fleein
Frae the river an the laich
Tae wheel agin the gloamin
An cruin thair witchy yairn.
An the starns war grim an frail
Whan the bauchens came fleein, fleein
Frae the river an the laich
Tae wheel agin the gloamin
An cruin thair witchy yairn.
“We war kings o’ auld!” thay chaunted,
“Rowlers o’ a waurld enchanted;
“Ivery nation o’ creation
“Awnt oor lairdship owur men.
“Diadems o’ pouer crount us,
“Than ris Solomon tae confoond us,
“Flang his wab o’ magic roon us,
“In the form o’ beasts he boond us,
“Sae oor rowl wis braken than.”
Dirlin, wheelin intae wastwart,
Flew thay in thair phanton flicht;
Wis it but a weeng-bat muisic
Curmurrt throu the starn-gemt nicht?
Or the weengin o’ a ghaist clan
Whisperin o’ forgat micht?
Flew thay in thair phanton flicht;
Wis it but a weeng-bat muisic
Curmurrt throu the starn-gemt nicht?
Or the weengin o’ a ghaist clan
Whisperin o’ forgat micht?
Art by the inimitable* Virgil Finlay, a master in the art of illustrating inimicable horrors, courtesy of Monster Brains. Don't have nightmares this Hallowe'en...
*Cheers Deuce Richardson!
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