Through dusty forests greenly brown
To bear the news of their invasions
Plundering lands and wasting nations
Sixty horsemen went around
Killing men and making sound
To spread the word to every one
That terror comes to block the sun.
Only one brave iron-smith
Who iron had been working with,
To build his king a fatal sword,
Ten feet long and thickly broad,
Did look them in the eye,
Sword in hand and head up high.
He killed a score, and then one more,
Slaughtering men and mounts, before,
A well-judged pitching of a pike
Did cause the point to break his skin,
Leaving blood to bathe the spike
That went on further, deep within.
3 comments:
Your poems really light up my weekdaya. Here's hoping for more.
Thanks! When are you back down to this town?
back in end of next month. lets meet at the usual.
Post a Comment