Song Of The Grim Reaper Poem by ENOCH JOHN

Where mountains cap their peaks with snow
And rivers curve their watery bends;
Where the setting sun caresses the evening earth
And with diligence Regents and rulers hunt their sport,
Where vagabonds and vagrants seek their fill
In lands far and wide that yield to the plough.

Where in storage weapons of mass destruction wait
And patient death hovers like a mighty vulture.
O! The carnage that will be of sure consequence!
Then will the rivers flow with the blood of kings
And youths still green with their mother's freshness
Will die in earnest and inglorious uncertainty-
When cataclysm after cataclysm bedevils humanity,
In lands so varied and set far and wide!