The Undertaker ⌛ video⁵ 『MUSICAL CURSE』

[undertakerlol]

[ The Undertaker was sitting at his desk, writing in his journal when he decided to take a break. He stretched his long, skinny, scarred arms. He rolled his neck, listen to the bones gratefully crack and pop. He sat back in his large chair, picking up his cane and looking at it. As if on cue, a soft strumming of a guitar is heard and Undertaker sings ]

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Oh, not now for songs of a nation's wrongs,
not the groans of starving labor;
Let the rifle ring and the bullet sing
to the clash of the flashing sabre.
There are Irish ranks on the tented banks
of Columbia's guarded ocean;
And an iron clank from flank to flank
tells of armed men in motion.

The Irish green shall again be seen
as our Irish fathers bore it,
A burning wind from the South behind,
and the Yankee rout before it.
O'Neil's red hand shall purge the land-
Rain a fire on men and cattle,
Till the Lincoln snakes in their own cold lakes
Plunge from the blaze of battle.

Whoe'er shall march by triumphal arch
Whoe'er may swell the slaughter,
Our drums shall roll from the Capitol
O'er Potomac's fateful water.
Rise, bleeding ghosts, to the Lord of Hosts
For judgement final and solemn;
Your fanatic horde to the edge if the sword
Is doomed line, square, and column.

[ When he's done, he closes his tired eyes and continues to hum the tune. ]