Ode to Atilla

Along the ridge side by side

Roman and Goth did meet

Awaiting the arrival of their mutual disgust

The Terror of the East.

In clouds of dust the hordes came

The Evil under the Sun-

The Goths and Romans did steady themselves

Prepared for the mighty Hun.

Somewhere down in the depths of the bowels

Came their battle cry!

By stomping hooves and clashing sword 

Many men did die.

The land was ripe with blood that day

When metal, flesh and earth became one.

No Roman or Goth would stand alone

Against Attila the Hun.

But the scourge of the earth road onward

Raging his bloody cry!

As he raped and ravished poor Italy--

Only Rome would not die.

On to Rome the marauders would go

Leaving destruction in their wake

But Rome was fortified and ready

When the Barbarians arrived at the gate.

Ahh, but even Attila had his Achilles heel

  In this case it was Caesar's daughter

In exchange for her he would leave Rome

And not lead it to slaughter.

But Caesar became enraged!

This insult he would not take!

The Romans indignantly took up arms

Causing Attila to consider his mistake.

Long is the day for a worn warrior

And the Huns were worn through and through

Their energy spent and their resources depleted

Retreating was all that Attila could do.

In the eyes of his people Attila was a hero

And a hero's welcome is what he received

Victories of the Hun were widely celebrated

Stories of glorious battle believed.

As the custom was with his people

Attila had many wives

None had ever claimed his heart

Assuming they even tried.

There was one woman, however, young and fair

Seeming sent from above

One simple glance his way and the fearsome warrior fell;

Attila was in love.

Soon a great wedding was made;

A feast to end all feast

People came from near and far

To see this beauty of the east.

Now there is nothing more ridiculous as a warrior in love

Their commonsense and boldness are sunk

So Attila did what all besotted warriors do

He  wholeheartedly got drunk.

As with all great warriors of his ilk

Attila wanted to die a warriors death.

Engaged in combat on the battlefield 

He wanted to draw his last breath.

But for poor drunken Attila

It simply was not to be

He suffered, you see, a bloody nose

And died unceremoniously.

No hero's death for him

No warriors last stand

Nature did for history

What could not be by man.