Author's Note: Just having fun with old-timey English and playing with what might've happened between the time of the War and the events we know of the Underground.

Harken now, with faces pale!

Incline thine ear to me;

I'll tell you now of Und'rtale

and of the fox, Toby.

Long ago in ages past

when monsters did roam free,

There came a war. Spells were cast

and man had victory.

Deep beneath old Ebbot's roots

the magic ones were sealed.

We grew fat on vict'ry's fruits

while silent bells did peal.

Children would oft' hear the sound

as some would give swift chase

to find the songs from underground

which called them to that place.

One might hear the chimes of joy.

Another, bells of art

pulling them from all their toys

and setting them apart.

Through the woods and to the mount

the fallen children climbed,

some with miles too great to count

to seek the bells sublime.

Heav'nly heights to hellish depths

they fell down, one by one;

ancient pain had brought new deaths

in vain for want of sun.

Again a child did fall down

and landed on a bed.

The flow'rs under that small crown

served to protect their head.

The reason why they came

no soul yet knows that mis'try.

Yet of the child named Frisk

their story's now our hist'ry.