In Praise of Swords

I don't like a stub of a mace or a club -
You won't knock me down with that pitiful nub.
It's hard not to smirk when a man pulls a dirk
(A weapon too tiny to properly work),

And likewise I'll laugh if you whip out a staff
To give me a thumping - that's too big by half!
All these are ignored, for they leave me quite bored -
There's nothing as good for the job as a sword.

A swordsman, you'll find, has the presence of mind
To do you quite well from in front or behind.
To parry and thrust, well, a sword is a must -
For this other weapons are no more than dust.

A sword that's concealed, when its length is revealed,
Will weaken my knees like naught else you can wield.
When my time to die in the future draws nigh,
I hope it's a sword that deals me my goodbye.

So please feel no guilt for the blood that you've spilt...
Just bury it all the way up to the hilt,
Thrust in and pull out, till there's no room for doubt,
And finish me off as you finish the bout.

In Praise of Swords

Navigation menu