In Hampton town, by Atlanta's gate,
Four souls were sent to Hel's late fate.
From lone wolf's gun, their lives were ended,
And yet the knave remains unapprehended.

Back to the house of mouse, he came,
Heroes and princes, his realm to reclaim.
Eight moons have turned, yet Bob is weary,
The halls of Disney are bleak and dreary.

The skyborne men of United's fleet,
In silver ships where clouds do meet.
Under a pact crafted anew,
Their bounty grows as storms accrue.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur