My horse! Sir, have you seen my fine horse? I last saw her running to the Spanish shores.

She’s as alluring as the Tower of Babylon, as pretty as the fair maidens of Avalon,

Crimson hue which follows when she moves adorns her from the mane to the hooves;

(I was told she was bred by Morgan Le Fay, or, that she from Beowulf’s stable ran away)

You’ll not see such a creature anywhere, the one called The Bloody Red Mare.

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Much despised she is in the Christian West, Templar Knights do her name much detest.

They say, she once appeared like a curse to the Crusaders battling a heathen force;

Then, suddenly, the sky turned ashen gray, diabolical stones began to fall in a spray

Striking down all the holy mounted knights, crushing their heads to the Arabs’ delights.

A witness who relayed the ghastly affair said that it was The Bloody Red Mare.

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It was, too, the scarlet steed did unsettle the Byzantine army amidst a furious battle

Against a great eastern steppe horde, who were by pious folks much abhorred.

As she drew upon the soldiers of Jesus began pouring rain hard and furious,

But the precipitation was of scalding water as hot as the steam from volcanic matter,

Boiled alive every man of the cross there; they all saw it: The Bloody Red Mare.

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Others say the red trotter, likewise, came before the soldiers of the Teutonic fame

When they marched In the northern woods to rid Europe of the pagans broods.

The red mare brought with her a misty flood which turned the field into a bloody mud;

The heavy armoured warriors but sank away, their mouths and lungs filled with wet clay.

A few that survived would later declare they were undone by The Bloody Red Mare.

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Bearer of the darkest tidings, the equine red, had many to their gruesome deaths led;

Of all the tales of baneful beasts known well like the foul Gorgons or the awful Grendel,

The one told of the grim red marauder incurs the bitterest and the wildest terror,

For hers is corruption most unwholesome from macabre powers of hell’s bosom:

Pure evil to which none can compare is the true form of The Bloody Red Mare.

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Have you seen my horse? I query because your face now causes me to thus suppose;

By the trace of appalling sight in your eyes a monstrum horrendum I can verily surmise;

Did you, too, bear the flesh churning vision the galloping terror does oft occasion?

Did she scorch your spirit, broil your brain, scrape your bones, rip out the inmost vein?

I can see from your dead, blank stare, you, indeed, met The Bloody Red Mare.