Look in thy mere and thou reveal knight?
Oh with thou jagged dagger reveal what stains?
For not a child, nor a man knows right,
For blanketing stares seem so ghostly plain,
Still clenching thy holster, sighting thy back,
For thy brother-en, buries within a crack,
With broken shield and dented helms,
For whom may spit upon thy brother's tomb,
Where thee can only await within another realm,
For wounded hearts, dance till noon,
Yet some lay in care with losses to ail,
This misery holds me back from thy revel,
Why dost thou spend a pinet on ale?
To act so feeble, and to tease the devil?
