Oaken Bard – The Canticle of Giants

Great did the tree rise of old.
Born of fire, and born of cold.
Center of empires ancient and grand.
All would forever worship at her stand.

Four cities were built beneath golden bough.
Lands that were set by bronze plough.
Children of a golden age.
All were ruled by a kingly sage

For an age they lived in peace.
Yet all that came to cease.
Giants and Ogre rose in wrath.
Only a few could stand in their path.

The War of Giants raged.
The Children of Abyss were then uncaged.
Grand cities, spires, and walls were cast down.
Kingly grandeur became a broken crown.

Woe betide any who did not flee.
The Ogres would devour them with glee.
Giants laughed and feasted in broken halls.
Children of Gods huddled beneath silver falls.

Some fled into worlds beyond.
Others could only abscond.
Thus ended the Silver Age.
Twisted by giants in their rage.