The Chronicles of Lady Death - Olga of Kiev

The three horsemen smiled,
One by one she called their names,
Rise they did, from graves forgotten.

Pestilence my friend, she would sing,
As men burned in the bathrobe,
The best of their land, burned to ashes,
'No more suitors', the Pale horseman sang.

The wise and righteous of the land folcked,
War smiled, as he sharpened the swords,
Bidding her cry for revenge, patience a fools virtue

Patience paid its wage, in her court,
As he wetted his blade, bathed in blood,
Olga smiled, as five thousand lay dead,
Soldiers sheathed their swords, so did the Black horseman, 

Her long lost love she mourned,

Olga wailed, as her love lay drenched in crimson.

The lure to mourn spawned the empire.

Famine hit the twenty of the best, 

Dirt rose high, life smothered till the last breath.

The White horseman raised his sword,

As he stole the dying breath, of the men who came to mourn.

My son shall live on, Olga chimed,

For a price of pigeons and sparrows, three a piece,
Fire rained from heavens, Gomorrah witnessed its end.

Death devoured her love,   Drevlian murderers,
She mourned long and hard,
As she became the last rider of apocalypse,
Thus was sang the chronicles of lady death,

The chronicles of Saint Olga of Kiev's

St. Olga of Kiev - Wiki