by Peter Loaf
The castle gloomy, perched on a rock
Passage to Asia, the gate to lock
The Christian Orders
The Pope supporters
Silk Road to riches, the Mongols block
Kubla Kahn plotting, keeping His Power
His orders speeding, tower to tower
Barbarian converts
In chainmail shirts
Shouting, “GOD WILLS IT, Now Is The Hour”*
The horsemen gather, on the high hill
The city standing, the butcher’s bill
Siege engines rolling
The road patrolling
The battle planning, city to kill
Parley knight riding, white flag whipping
The Mongol meeting, sword hilts gripping
Demand surrender
Snorting defender
The black flag threatened, pretence stripping
The castle archers, well within shot
His white flag honored, to safety got
Barbarians cheering
Infidels nearing
The Witches sending, the Mongol’s plot
Trebuchets mounted, high on the walls
The ranges knowing, the big weight falls
The long arm blurring
Flaming pitch whirring
Armor not helpful, screaming knight falls
Retreat to safety, council of war
Trebuchets deadly, beat them before
A siege they’re laying
Famine card playing
Setting up campground, housekeeping chore
Puff of smoke billows, right in their camp
Three naked women, their pussies damp
The scent of their chum
The knights are struck dumb
A sex spell casting, The Witches Clamp
The general riding, imperial frown
His warhorse standing, pawing the ground
The scent hits his nose
His high regal pose
The sirens singing, he’s castle bound
Leading his charger, they take him back
The city gates open, his future black
Trebuchet winding
His way home finding
Long screaming missile, man in a sack
The night is quiet, the castle strong
The dawn comes slowly, it takes so long
By magic waylaid
The Christians afraid
The plains are empty, crusaders gone
*Loose translation of Pope Urban II’s “Call to the Faithful” that started the greatest war crime spree of history, until the 20th century.
