Of wounds this man can never die;
His lips will never, voice the cry
Which doomed another, ages gone
Who now is trapped as evil’s pawn.

Of puissant might and matchless brawn
The knight’s fierce fate is plainly drawn
Upon the tome of life, in fact
And in this power lies the pact.

So seek the wand, and face the snare
Yet in no way can you prepare
For Zanta’s wrath and endless guile—
Now try the quest, friend... for a while.