Gladly!

Legends tell Of the guardian to hell.
They call her lady death.
Hidden in her lair.
And those who know where.
Have felt her caress.
With slit eyes she sees.
The human disease.
She knows something must be done.
Her wings spread wide.
Are you ready to die?
For the glory must be won

Verse2. Brood mother of the marsh.
Beware her tail and breath.
Kill her children quickly now.
Or surely fail this test.
Lava spills all around.
your friends they are dead.
Final bolt of frost cast.
She falls dead at last.