As a poet for deeds i travel far
upon tales of a squire bold
I traveled night and day by sun and star
for something bid my this tale be told

as luck would have it when i arrived
inspiration fought high on a hill of green
the victor the victor the one still alive
the beginning of a song i did glean

My moment shattered by sight next seen
tired helmet fell to a field of grass
i stood entrapped by the scene
for the squire so bold was a beautiful lass

a new song did well within my heart
and the words as if by muse herself came forth
begging from her let me never be apart
moved by song she felt my worth

for months i lounged in her strong hands
tracing scars that graced her fair skin
content next to a muse i laid my plans
that would make hearts sing from deep within

but war tore apart my moment of peace
knights and lords did give commands
and on the march did our dalliance cease
but i served as well with lute in hand

as a poet i watch the deeds from afar
but only one would catch mine eye
death, grace, beauty is what you are
then for the worse the battle went awry

tired helmet crashed to a field of grass
I stood entrapped by the scene
some hellish knight laid low my angel lass
my heart shattered by sight last seen

no new songs can come from this broken heart
my angel lass laid low by others plans
I walk as the dead a man with no heart
for my soul lounges in her strong hands