Yamato Takeru, with sword in hand, Entered Yomi, the land of the dead. He saw the souls, all lost and damned, And wondered how his journey would end.
A god appeared, with regal stance, And warned the prince to turn and flee. But the prince demanded the sword of chance, And the god relented, just to see.
The sword was sharp, the sword was true, And the prince knew he'd see it through. He held the sword with pride and might, And knew that he had won the fight.
So out he rode, with sword held high, And the souls of Yomi could only sigh. The prince had won, the prince had conquered, And his triumph would forever be pondered.