In ancient days forgotten now
Times drowned in seas of years
The Blith set out 'cross orange skies
O'er shadowed plain and mere
Betwixt the tow'r of Ult-ut-Dhrag
And the stones of Iakel's glyphs
Would skirl with panicked yammerings
The bloated, fetid Blith
Oh why such noise, thou noisome beast?
Why stumble through the air?
Why beckon with thy ill-shaped limbs
Or gaze with mindless stare?
Dost thou mourn those other brutes
Dim shapes of vague days past?
Or dost thou howl victorious
Because thou art the last?
Ne'er would the Blith its end reveal
Merely coil, twist, and sag
Past the stone of Iakel's glyphs
To the tow'r of Ult-ut-Dhrag
