Here is a poem I found scrawled hastily on some line paper that was stained with a great deal of sweat and smudged with dirt.
Aztec Gold
In the haunted Aztec Jungles - there is a lake of Gold!
Wrapped in skeletal embrace, they are old, old old!
The Spaniards who hug those treasures - they are cold, cold, cold!
They strode as gods on bloody temples, and they coveted the gold!
Conquerors, Adventurers, proud men; bold!
Heavy were their wages, and down they pulled!
Beware the call of Glory - know the price it holds:
We have sung their story, now let them keep their gold!
Aztec Gold
In the haunted Aztec Jungles - there is a lake of Gold!
Wrapped in skeletal embrace, they are old, old old!
The Spaniards who hug those treasures - they are cold, cold, cold!
They strode as gods on bloody temples, and they coveted the gold!
Conquerors, Adventurers, proud men; bold!
Heavy were their wages, and down they pulled!
Beware the call of Glory - know the price it holds:
We have sung their story, now let them keep their gold!
