In Dunsinane did rivers flow,
From corpses many row on row.
For fate did pierce his once good heart,
Corrupted passion against a follower's part.
Twisted plans and scheming murders,
Thus brought about new war herders.
The clash of steel and shouts of pain,
Did lead unto Macbeth's own bane.
Upon the grassy courtyard below,
A wielding Macduff did plough.
The greatest battle would soon begin,
Between good and evil, swords did pin.
Valiant and brave for the realms good cause,
Macbeth did mortally pay for his fatal flaws.
In Dunsinane, no more rivers flow,
To Malcolm, kingship do the people rightly bestow.