In restless graves, in hallowed mounds
Come forth Faeo's undead from the ground.
Noisesome, loathsome and shambling forth
To the cardinal corners they pour forth.
Oozing pustulant, and greatly reviled,
Zombies of men, corpses defiled.
Crawling forth with broken legs
Last vestiges of sentience only in dregs.
Liches ravenous, hunger to feed
On tasty snacks that twitch and bleed
On valiant warriors they fall in packs
Making them into gruesome snacks
Vampires, perhaps foulest of the foul
Leering long fangs, permenant scowl
With eyes filled with unbridled desire
To kill all men, objects of their ire
And more do yet in the Castle wait
To unleash hordes that quiver with hate
So beware, citizens of this land
The Day of the Dead is at hand!
