When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue
Ah hearken to me, young ones, open your ears
As I tell you the truth of the times in the old
When winter's wild windblasts would whistle their venom
And even in suntime, stone hearts would grow cold
So let your mind out of its cage as you wonder
Upon the great stories of ages ago
Gaze into the fire and feel fiercely the feelings
Of ponies whose souls had been hidden below
Once did a land bear the weight of proud ponies
Who strove to be greatest and richest of all
But like unto every great nation divided
These ponies and their wealth were destined to fall
For it was a grangling time, ponies were cunning
And trust was unknown, and the clans fell to fray
And greedy for gold, the guilds grew into armies
And even the dragons were kinder than they
When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue
The ponies of earth girded them up for battle
Each one armed aready, the archers with arrows
The pikeline with points which would pierce through the ponies
Whom they'd deemed their bane, with a hate to the narrows
Great oaks fell that day for the fortress of lumber
They built up around them, preparing to slay
Any foolish invader would fall for his folly
And warlike intentions ne'er fell by the way
With grim gob and gizzard, they gat them to gore-talk
And many a threat from the threshold was heard
And many a pony would die on the morrow
And wonder, but willing, would wish every word
And saddled, with standard, stood side to side sorely
Awaiting the dawn that would show them their foe
But never did question their motive, nor reason
That blind rage and Chaos had them in its throe
When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue
Now think on the sky, where the winged ones assembled
With chariots ready and fire in their eyes
With boldness and bloodlust, control-thirsty warriors
With lightning at hoof waiting for Sun to rise
So fierce were their faces, the visage of ponies
Who sought only blindly for gold and the reign
That coils of the Serpent at Bitgard seemed mild
Contrasted with legions of ponies insane
They buckled their belts and they bit on their bridles
And restlessly champed as the he-beaver's jaws
And they sharped their wing-spikes and they waxed their war-saddles
They polished their helms and they fastened their claws
For pegasus ponies have proven their prideful
And arrogant nature as cruel as an asp
So watched they and waited, without realizing
Their pride fueled the power that had them in grasp
When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue
But as oft' is the case, magick madly empowers
The ones whom it wields, (though they think that they wield)
And lights up the eyes with the bloodlust of demons
And simpering soul-deep, soon serves as a shield
A shield from emotion, a buckler, lest heartfelt
And true and sincere love should ever take hold
Aye, the fae-gift keeps many from true peace and union
And thus long ago grew the unicorns cold
Aye, the unicorns, shrouded in mist, moon, and magick
Were deaf to the crying of Charity's call
And they sharpened their horns and they readied their mana
For, wise though they seemed, they were proudest of all
And as the groups gathered, in ghastly dominion
Of right next to nothing, but reeling, reviled,
The dark Lord of Chaos looked out from his ring-room
And watched them assemble, and waited, and smiled.
When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue
At a time when all ponykind seeks only vengeance,
And sweet, soothing Sanity slips still away
A hero oft rises, though seldom heroic
And dearly, e'en dithering, may diffuse the fray
For such was the way of one Silver the Lanky
A pegasus pony whose wings were not full
Whose heart, never hollow, was wider than wingspread
And ready and waiting the hate to anull
He hale from his home in the cold clouds above him
And sought with his heart to bring peace to the guilds
And thought he would wander, and wished to word wisely
Convincing the clans of the rancor that builds
For strong was his blood-thrust, and firm was his fervent
And deep-rooted passion for peace on the earth
So Fortune was with him, though never he knew it
For Wyrd wisely wills, though not all know its worth
When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue
So sauntered he on, through the mists and the billows
And bravely sojourned through the lands of his foes
And would have brought calm to the lands of all living
But malice, ne'er dormant, stands firm as it grows
For the clans had grown tired of tending their treaties
Convinced in conviction they'd not give an ell
Every stranger reviled, every other race banished
And Chaos spread rampant as fires from Hell
Aye, fires from Hades, that mead-hall Gehenna
Where demons and ghouls all assembled that day
This, the downfall of goodness, struck them with deep longing
So aided they Chaos with strength on the way
And thus Silver found not an ear that would heed him
And every tribe cast him from out of their land
And thus Silver found his heart weakened, discouraged
At last, all alone, he would seek strength to stand
When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue