The dead bend their knees to the necrotic Bone Man,

Whose dark magic radiates from the palm of his hand,

His eyes are bright and scarlet and his flesh is rotten tan,

His ghoulish horde are souls of broken men.

For all his life, he lived in pain,

Now he takes the land of Innistrad,

With the ghoulish horde he has in reign,

Emptying the tombs of all the dead flesh they once had.

The Bone Man grants the living their quick release,

By the blade of his Graveyard Sergeant,

Putting their life of suffering at ease,

The necromancer's deathly pardon.

Here rules the lord whose flesh rots from where he stand,

The walking corpse of the necrotic Bone Man.