This man, he lives in a stone-walled cottage.
He is widowed and his home embossed in overgrown foliage.
He is hidden away,
until one day
he finds some Courage
to travel to the Tavern in the Trader’s village.
He sits amongst the merchants, blacksmiths and Pirates.
A fair Princess hands him his ale whilst they riot.
He sips it coolly as the men start to Battle.
To thwart this fight would be too much of a hassle.
He says so joshingly to the beauty beside him,
but she is absent of her Throne
as he turns to see her hopelessly
in the grasp of a Warlock.
He thunders through fearlessly
as he swore not to ever abandon a damsel in distress
– though he only said this to impress
a maiden he once begot.
As he draws his sword
The hilt is cool in his hands so hot.
He thrusts it forward with great power,
his steps do not falter
as he slashes these villains before a sacrificial alter.
The warriors resist but to their disdain,
this man is not fighting for honour
but rather to relieve his pain.
His anger more suited to this war against evil,
he slaughters the fighters for they are no longer people
– and the damsel flees to an unsafe haven,
to the lair of a beast and once again she is taken.
His grip does not slacken
as he slays these dragons.
They roar fiercely and spread their wings
but the damsel is free
and nowhere to be seen.
Why does he still fight these creatures powered by the wind,
why does his sword no longer sing as he swings
To meet wood and brick
– suddenly, his throat is thick
as he turns to the Tavern
and as the blood seeps out
he realises what had just happened ...
but continues to swing at the windmill that is no longer a dragon,
until he is slain by the barmaid
and may return to his wife in Heaven.