What princely prancing greets proud battle lines,
In gleaming armor and fine feath'red lace,
Convinced in heart and soul of cause divine,
Held steady ready firm in ordered place.

And oft' came bugle's shrill clarion call.
Hark knights on horse alerted to its sound,
That pounded forth with fierce voice, one and all,
'Midst thund'rous sounds of hooves each churning ground.

In wild abandon, flew into the fray,
Where death stalked fields of woeful blood and gore.
Here panic plagued fate ruled the daunting day.
Hence, many died on sands of foreign shore.

Though victor and foe wrought what blood was shed,
The outcome meant naught to the quaking dead.