Came out the north, in black of night,
As venomous as serpents bite,
Laying waste to peaceful village,
Devastation, rape and pillage.
Heading south, conflagration,
In creature's wake, annihilation,
As hounds of hell on horseback rode,
The wrath of Khan, on land bestowed.
Up ahead, does next prey loom,
Word had spread, impending doom,
People in their huts aquiver,
To gods their plea, from hell deliver.
Small village lay on mountain's side,
No where to run, no where to hide,
Down below, ran river deep,
While up above, rock ledges steep.
On the wind, came people's cries,
For Huns lay wait, until sun's rise,
Then with the dawn, deep river ford,
Up mountain's side, to redden sword.
In single file, up narrow path,
Soon would feel, of Vandal's wrath,
Then from the crags, came meager band,
Not with swords, but rocks in hand.
A hoarde of locusts, on horse's back,
Were met by twelve, on foot attack,
For short instant, death's tide was stemmed,
Below rock's ledge, attackers hemmed.
Up above, a boulder pried,
Avalanche, no where to hide,
Beneath the rocks, black scourge was buried,
As were the twelve, with rocks they carried.
On mountain's side, small village lay,
Where townsfolk toil, and children play,
Where it is said, each day at dawn,
Twelve bells are rung, for twelve men gone.