We've come to claim the crown of ancient kings, In chapel hid until the heir is born. We Undead have no need for crowns and rings; Bring out the gold, and peaceful we'll be gone. But should you stall until an army comes, Or should you try to say we have no claim, The pipes of death will sound; we'll beat the drums And towns destroy, and see you take the blame. If we are harmed, don't think you won't escape! Our plans are now in many ways afoot. When spirits dark own throne and ermine cape, Detractors in their places shall be put. What's that you say? The chapel's down the road? We shall reward the aid you've just bestowed.
Today’s Daily Prompt asked for poems about “LOST”.