What is that pennant that waves side to side? Above yonder ravening, villanous tide? The icon depicting a Toad-o'-the-pit on a stitched fabric of cured, leggish hide.
Growing, the scabrous image of dread, Before which the armies of sane men have fled, Before which the ravening legions have bled, Yea, growing, the mammet draws nigh.
'Coming,' the ashen-faced messengers told, 'Burning with fire and pissing on gold, The Flayer of Shins is consuming the 'wold, and bearing his foul banner high.'
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