Paul Roland Witchfinder General
Where the plague has scourged no crops will grow
Even ravens feed from the gallows pole
A fallow land bled by civil war
Where all are prey to the inquisitor
He comes to carve to cure the beast
With the burning zeal of a perverted priest
His pageant like a funeral cortage
Heralding a grim and new dark age
From the churchyard to the village square
Where the priest intones a mocking prayer
Innocents are dragged screaming through the streets
To teed the flames and Puritan conceit
