Witchfinder General Testo
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Testo Witchfinder General
Where the plague has scourged no crops will grow, Even ravens feed from the gallows pole,
A fallow land bled by civil war, Where all are prey to the inquisitor.
He comes to carve to cure the beast, With the burning zeal of a perverted priest,
His pageant like a funeral cortage, Heralding a grim and new dark age.
From the churchyard to the village square,
Where the priest intones a mocking prayer,
Innocents are dragged screaming through the streets, To teed the flames and Puritan conceit.
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