Fellowship Of The Grand Lords. Poem by Ebi Robert

Arise with spoons great sons of our land.
Let us dig into tales of ages past.

Between the horns, and let the pipers pipe.
Let us dance like in the day the moon
was young.

Place on them our mark for they are our gladiators.
Let them know we owe this ludos.

Round about us these currencies sit.
Through our paths their hearts
in heavy rhythm shall pass.

Beat the drums of mistery,
let our chants be heard in the hunter lands.
Lets sing in accents of the goods.
For in their paths we trode.

And dwell within fear, here.
This ring built to trend.
Fear within fear as day passes
to tear drums to bear.

You asked of Lusheyi
O' my lady.
Also of Luncelot
that there's a lot.
Now do what you can.
For i pity the weak write.
I saw here and joke cast to a sea.
Joking eves and men.
Clown and touch fires sinking here.
Do this that I may well, here.
Let it die well and live to die that die may die.