The Warrior's Lament by Melissa


Disclaimer: The Lament in its original form belongs to someone, I don't actually know who, but I know it's not mine. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the idea behind the lament itself are the sole property of the author. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way, as if! Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices, or I could get my arse severally kicked!!

If u like, and for some reason want to copy it for your own use, (I don't wanna' know what for), e-mail me at, sev_of_9@yahoo.co.uk and let me know what u think.


As I walked out in the streets of Athens,

As I walked out in Athens one day,

I spied a poor warrior, wrapped in white linen,

Wrapped up in white linen, as cold as clay.


Oh beat the drums slowly, and play the fife lowly,

Play the dead march, as you carry me along,

Take me to the green valley, there lay the sod o'er me,

For I'm a young warrior and I know I've done wrong.


I see by your outfit that you are a warrior,

These words she did say as I boldly stepped by,

Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,

I am shot in the breast and know I must die.


Let sixteen Amazons come handle my coffin,

Let sixteen warriors come sing me a song,

Take me to the graveyard and lay the sod o'er me,

For I'm a young warrior and I know I've done wrong.


My friends and relations live in the Amazon nation,

They know not where their sister has gone,

I first came to Athens and hired to a ranchman,

Oh I'm a young warrior and I know I've done wrong.


It was once in the saddle I use to go dashing,

It was once in the saddle I met my young maid,

First to the doll house and then to the battlefield,


Get six solemn warriors to carry my coffin,

Get six pretty maidens to bear up my pall,

Put bunches of flowers all over my coffin,

Put flowers to deaden the sods as they fall.


Then swing your rope slowly and rattle your sword lowly,

And give a wild whoop as you carry me along,

And in the grave throw me and roll the sod o'er me,

For I'm a young warrior and know I've done wrong.


Oh bury beside me my knife and my armour,

My bow by my heel, as you sing me the song,

The song of the dead is hummed, soft, sweet and gentle,

Please tell my young maiden I did her so wrong.


Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water,

To cool my parched lips, the young warrior did say,

Before I returned her soul had departed,

And gone on to heaven, the young warrior was dead.


We beat the drums slowly and played the fife lowly,

And bitterly wept as we bore her along,

For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young, and gentle,

We all loved our comrade although she'd done wrong.