Four kingdoms stood on the edge of battle,
One loving, one
mourning, one rich, one poor
The lords and ladies, the knights and
chattle,
All took up their arms and rode off to war
The first was famed for acts of charity
The second, for care in
burying dead
The third craved gems of size and clarity
The last
loved combat, and much blood it shed
Who once they called friends, they now called vile
Broken and
strained alliances crumbled
As atop a hill, the armies piled
Axes
met swords, and downwards they tumbled
All shared one fortune when battle was done
Noble or common,
all dried in the sun
