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Deep in the heart of a wasteland fen

Lies a twisted skein of urbanity

For generations these morose creatures

Impure the manners of all humanity

Marquis of this quagmire

His kin the squad

Eating human rations

Feed people of the bog

A marshland of fear

Lurking in the fog

Consuming these denizens

The people of the bog

Now their existence is know

The populace forms a thirsty mob

To exterminate the rabid cannibals

They call the people of the bog