Deep in the heart of a wasteland fen Lies a twisted skein of urbanity For generations these morose creatures Impure the manners of all humanity Marquis of this quagmire His kin the squad Eating human rations Feed people of the bog A marshland of fear Lurking in the fog Consuming these denizens The people of the bog Now their existence is know The populace forms a thirsty mob To exterminate the rabid cannibals They call the people of the bog