The Sword

The mighty sword was swift, as it put to death

enemies of the crown

Open wounds felled hot blood forward

sucked into blood stained earth of battered amor.

Another battlefield lay dead at its feet

armored steeds hoofed over armies gone

leading the great knight over flesh and bone

His sword gleaming in blue light, parted way

Another day born without fear

what is due this brave king will brave more

As the righteous fight with God in moorish land

onward his knights pace ignoring

the cry of the banchee

On smokey moor, eyes witness death

as sword and armor clash, good will conquer evil

and out of the moors emerge a true king

and his mighty sword


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