Appearing from the mud , spectre of the past

Warnings from the grave that we are about to fast

Erased from the mind by centuries of plenty

The signs now say the rivers are now empty

 

Apocalyptic horseman   round they earth they thunder 

wasting all before them , casting all asunder

Waiting in the wings , appearing in a cloud 

Of pestilence and war , handing out the shrouds

 

The stones appear before us ominously scribed

By desperate populations starved before they died

Ignore them at our peril we now can see the sign

For empty  rivers, dried up fields

Spell very little time