The Great Fog of Gray


Thick and dense,

From days of hold, hence

The Dreadfog trickles along

Hear out a wretched song:

Sticky tendrils of gray

Consuming they who enter its fray

The lost little lamb

Never again, the sand

Instead the barque of bone

A terror never to all be shown

Wraiths of Dread, a chittering skull

Shall lurk to you amidst the fog of dull

And scatter your flesh along the sea

Your bones bound, never you to be free

So fear the great fog of gray

Else you meet, your last and final day

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