The Rider
The wind blows,
A frightful gale,
Rattling windows,
It tells a tale.
�The rider, the rider,
He comes, he comes,
The Strider, the Strider,
We must beat the drums!�
The people run out,
The drums roar,
They prepare for the rout,
And the rain pours.
The wind howls,
A keen of death,
He comes in a cowl,
And steals away breath.
�The rider, the rider,
He comes, he comes,
The Strider, the Strider,
We must beat the drums!�
The figure walks,
A harbinger of doom,
He never talks,
Just peers through the gloom.
The wind wails,
A portent of fright,
But the fear pales,
Next to the dark knight.
�The rider, the rider,
He comes, he comes,
The Strider, the Strider,
We must beat the drums!�
The crown is fraught,
With fear most extreme,
The victim to be caught,
Turns an odd shade of green.
The wind whistles,
And the black knight advances,
Down in the thistles,
The victim dances.
�The rider, the rider,
He comes, he comes,
The Strider, the Strider,
We must beat the drums!�
The knight walks to the glen,
A hand stretched out,
The bane of all men,
The victim then shouts.
He falls to his knees,
And takes his last breath,
The rider�s will decreed,
The bringer of death.
