((For fun. Parodized in ilk to gaelic folk music.))

We're all cluttered up like a patch of metal tufts on the head of a willow, our swords lingerin' to the wind of our tension. The air's thick and hot, the sky blood red with magical properties beyond the understanding of a mundane soldier. The ground is dry and cracked, and e'en if ya' look over yer' shoulder ta' spy tha' gold and blue towers in tha' horizon, ya've long since forgotten what home looks like. Tha' fight is long, back in tha' forge, in tha' forge, where the steel of yer' arms sweats beads of blood, and yer' runnin miles with four hundred pounds o' steel on yer' back. Breath is heavy and adrenaline's high, that's when it occurs to ya' ta' break into song.

Aye, into song.

Oh me name's Leo Castor, a paladin am I
On a three masted schooner from ye olde light Isle
I've been the world over north, south, east, and west
But gathered at the pool wheres' I likes it best

Oh the docks of Celest Where its wave over wave, sea over bow
I'm as happy a man as the paladin ladies allow
Theres no other life for a soldier like me
than to fight the red maggots, to fight and to bleed

Well I leave my wife lonely ten months of the year
For she built me a home and raised my children there
She never come out to bid farewell to me
Or ken why a paladin must fight and must bleed

The work it is hard and the hours are long
But my spirit is willing, my back it is strong
And when the works over the whisky will pour
We'll dance with the girls upon our golden shores

I've crusaded the world over for decades or more
And oft times I wonder what I do it for
I dont know the answer its victory and pain
But with life to live over I'd do it again

Lord knows you know it pains me to say this, but...thats pretty damn good.

(edited out)

err, publish it in the library leonias?