Knights of olde on steeds do mount,

and by the fires, their tales recount

of dragons hot and heavy breath;

they grapple on unto the death.

But, the women swoon at their return

and through the night the fires burn;

as tales are told of battles won

and heroes worshipped in the sun.

Through chivalry they fix their place

and all their lives they run the race;

of time immortal they do aspire

until their banner is raised the higher.

And in the end, they die in vain

as gladiators their blood does stain

the fields of life, where others toil

blood running crimson in the soil.

So cheer them not; these lonely men

who battle on until the end;

yet give them comfort from their pain

until duty calls them once again.