I used to own a battle song.

It would sing fast and long.

My blade would tear through flesh and bone.

Telling me how and where to roam.

I was a blade for right alone.

Wading through the bloody loam

The greatest might was my own

So many wrongs did I right

that blood would cloud my every sight .

A claymore was my one true friend

It was with me to the end.

Till as I went in to battle against the king

An archer let off one arrow.

And I was slain not by sword but bow

Now I lay here waiting

To see my last and one true king.

A warriors blood was once my own.

Now it belongs to hill and loam

Soon I will have passed on

Into deaths final song.