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The Necromancer’s Journey to the Four Thieves

In the twist of evening to night I walk among the lost

They lay in wait – six feet under

Left to rot in eternal frost

Yet I walk to find the graves

The resting place of the four thieves

The owl hoots its beaconing call

As I roll up my pitch-black sleeves

Alas I’ve found my treasure trove

The resting place to one of the thieves

The sound of metal scraping Earth in the lone graveyard at night

The smells of dirt and sweat and bone swirling to the sky

One of lavender – one of thyme

One of parsley – and rosemary slide

Into the potion of vinegar strong

I conjure the spirit that’s long since gone!

Thief awaken unto my call!

Show me the money – where you put it all!

The air – it empties a tiring sigh

As knowledge appears within my mind

“Foolish Necromancer before me here

My treasures have been emptied in all my despair

The thieves have gone their separate ways

Too many now to count the days”

The owl hoots its interrupting call

A poor man I will stay.

The rain is heavy – as the night is cold

The village four miles away

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