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Swampstomper - text

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From its cave of darkness,
A foul beast shifts its bones.
Moonless night its veil,
The mountain beast will come out to play.
Perched high in the black peaks,
None oft stir the beast.
Though men fear its presence,
Its lair was sealed...until this day!
Stumbling down the hillside,
Rocks and boulders fly.
Mischief is its motive,
Hear it's baleful cry.
Deep down in the marshland,
Amongst the shacks and mud,
The men there sense it's presence,
Soon their swamp will harbour the beast!
The mountain brute,
Stomps into the swamp,
All are crushed by it's reign.
The mountain brute,
Spares none in its romp.
None remain.
Howling and screaming,
With raucous mirth,
The beast swings it's horrid claws.
Mischief and chaos,
Tears through the town,
The beast yells a frightful roar.
Soon comes the morn.
Sun lights the dawn.
Rays coat the marsh.
Troll turns to stone.

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