He sat upon his steed.
Tall and proud,
And brave of deed.
He did ride,
His faithful sword,
Hung by his side.
It cut so clean,
His sole companion,
In battles seen.
By magic skill,
His arm to wield,
His enemies, kill.
Of battles fought.
Unto his heart,
A different thought.
Lay it to rest.
And peel the armour,
From his chest.
The gentle arms.
Who forged the sword,
With love and charms.
These many years.
Now he returned,
To dry her tears.
