15 September 2012
All stood quiet on the western Gladeer Moors, Apothecaries stood with various cures. Percival De Morville was the strongest commander All his tales told had no slander. The strongest man for leagues ahead Could lift mountains one man said. Fought an army of hundreds with one spear And roared so loud the enemy could hear. But none could match his skill with a sword, No man would even dare to afford Such a testy opponent with mighty fists Would have you sleeping before his wrists.
The battles and skirmishes he won single handed At age twenty and four HERO he was branded. Would win all the ladies hearts with a single smile Would have dames queuing for many a mile. A horseman he was, the finest rider. Belonged there like a web does to a spider.
On one battle against a foe from the south, Their leader had the sharpest teeth in his mouth. Percival laughed at this strange enemy and said “no man but me must remove his head!” And hence, at the end of the fight, When there was little remaining light. Percival removed the head of the sharp toothed man, Tied it to his horse and ran. Galloped through his army and sang, Forgetting about his foe’s sharp fang.
Riding back to his tent with the head still beneath, Percival’s leg was sliced open on the foe’s sharp teeth, With a cry of great pain, the warrior fell Infection gripping him he began to yell! And within a few days the warrior was dead Such a mighty loss from a little severed head.
Oh Mighty Death • Opuss № I