The journey's long through far off lands;
no raging torrent, burning sands
can stay fulfilment of our quest,
for mankind's fate lies in our hands.

As Sol dies swiftly in the west
by cooling zephyrs we are blest.
The evening star shall be our guide
and onwards ever we are pressed.

Now angry storms the heavens hide
and peril looms on ev'ry side.
yet loyalty within us burns;
the ancient enemy's defied.

Our track through rugged ranges turns.
Each heart for home and comfort yearns,
though neither says surrender's name
and swiftly fortitude returns.

But greedy for some fleeting fame
an unseen foe takes deadly aim.
My comrade falls with screams most dire-
a martyred soul in duty's name.

Then in my side like sudden fire
there shoots a pain like Hell's desire,
but from my lips there comes no sound;
my staunch resolve burns ever higher.

Where spirits cluster all around
the grim-faced ferryman is found
to carry me across the spate
of mystic river so renowned.

At last I knock upon a gate
neath twisted towers and spires ornate-
my mission's end. For this I strive;
to carry here my precious freight.

I whisper hoarsely, just alive,
though well I know I'll not survive,
"It's Tuesday night; deliv'ry's free.
Your pizza's fifteen ninety-five."