Don Quixote

Mad they all think him,
And mad he might be,
But never a knight was as noble as he.
He rode out to fight darkness,
One sunshiny day,
He battled a windmill, well that's what they say.
His mighty foes,
both cow and sheep,
He fights them all, while half asleep.
His wits are dull,
His lance is keen,
He polishes both to a very fine sheen.
Some say he retired,
Some say that he died,
While others yet say he continues to ride.