The Battle, The Victory, The Mourn

He cuts them down in one strike,

He uses all of his power and might,

He slays every one except his kin,

He kills ones who do the sin.

They attack him who does not weary.

The healers try their special berries,

The herbs don’t work on the dead,

And the whole field runs blood red.

The days go by, 

As blood runs dry.

The wounded stay away from the fray.

They fight for the land,

But many lose their hand.

The swords clank on enemy ranks.

The stones hurl through the air, 

As people lose their sense to hear.

Arrows fly by,

As young men die.

The dead lie still to trip the living,

And the devil does as he will.

The heros slash,

as villains retreat on narrow paths,

They swiftly flee into the trees.

The heros slay a score or more.

And knights try to kill the strong,

But they did too much of the wrong.

The king runs through the battlefield,

Highly noticed by the ones who wield,

The sword and the shield.

He stands out with the robes of gold,

And in addition an army so bold.

He is ready to fight,

For his life and his might.

So keen to fight,

He holds up his sword and yells the battle cry,

ALALALALAI!!!

The vermin flee to the sea,

As the brave try to fight.

The sea turns red,

To show the shed of the dead.

The wicked king does not cower,

But does not fight with all his power,

Because he does not know,

This is his final hour.

Finally, the battle’s won.

They shed their tears to the lost,

And many whisper heavy prayers.

The wise men make their offering,

Well others turn away the sin,

But most of all,

They mourn their kin.

They watch an enemy ship go by,

And fire lights are seen on high,

As flaming arrows pierce the sky.

Their aim is true and hits the ship,

And the ship does sink,

Only in a burn,

The Battle, The Victory, The Mourn.