Silver Knight, you are leaving me for fight
For ravens and the smell of blood.
Silver Knight, you cannot take flight,
and must fight for Britain once more.
The nights will be cold the days will be hot,
the battlefield will smell of rot and decay.
Many a valiant man will go
with less then half to return,
If you were always to be one of them,
I suppose yours truly could learn.
Silver Knight, while you fight,
I shall yearn for your blue eyes.
Your voice will echo through the trees,
softening as the wind dies.
But until the raven ceases to crow
or the Morrigun ceases to fly,
You will not cease to fight,
just as men will not cease to die.
Dedicated to: This is a private dedication.