I'll sing you now a song of Crow,
That's never been sung before,
So forevermore the land shall know,
The things he must restore.

Born twisted, he was, in times long past,
And in Truth he was reforged,
To free the realms at long, long last
From the heresies Hart disgorged.

The fae he brings to Mother Night
When in her arms remade,
Are sheltered from the blinding light
Of wicked Moon's tirade

When ghostly wolves roam the vale,
And call out into the night
He reaches out across the pale,
And praises their ghastly might

The Hifirae horde, when its prison fails
Heeds the righteous caws
And pries the stones from the trails
Leading through Serenwilde jaws

When the ancient, ugly crone
Has her beauty healed
He calls forth his warrior bones
So the future is revealed

Dying in her sacred halls,
Night's own powers drain
He rewards his wisest thralls
Who clear away her pain

I'll sing you songs of Crow, my flock
My voice will never falter
So you may murder, dance and shock
And bear gifts to his altar