Ghost Stallions

The queen of the forest had only one rule:

Don't pet the ghost stallions on the northern thule

They were a gift from the west barbarians, you see

Destined to roam the lands so fast and free

Never felt hunger, never felt a touch of fear

They waited faithfully until a midnight so clear

In their master would wander with golden gear

And he rode them into an underworld drenched in despair

To show the Lost how the magical beasts lived without a care