When the settlers of old have been cast from their home
Their children must rise to inherit their throne
 
Travel by land and by air and by sea
The ones that you seek will be shown to thee
 
Friends and fowl must all do their part
But only six will remain, the purest of heart.
 
But all should be weary of one not the same
Cast off their shadow and smite them in shame
 
Will Family will slay Family in displays of their might
Their blood raining down in streaks of golden and White
 
Unless order can remain amongst the brave
History will repeat as they fall to their grave.