If there were such a man that had
Noble and gallant in his spirit,
Proud and bravery in his being,
Compassion and mercy in his heart,
Then this world is a better place,
Because we had known him.
His name didn't matter,
For he was known by many names
When he had no super power
Which was called his own,
But his faith and courage were hidden,
For they were his, and his alone.
Now he played the idle son of his father,
And did show no sigh of his true self.
His anger was checked by his friend,
The manservant who spoke no word,
But no one was to know that he did hear,
And risked his life for his master.
For this landowner's son became the one,
Whom the tyrants and oppressors feared.
The one, the others, rich or poor, respected,
And claimed him as their own champion.
For he fought for his people and others,
And righted the wrongs everywhere he went.
His black mighty stallion he claimed as his own,
This bold creature carried his master to safety,
When they were pursued by the enemies
Who sought their capture and death.
But Tornado, named by the one he loved,
Never failed his master in his strife.
The name by which this man had called himself
Like the cunning and bold creature he represented,
Clothed in black with the smile on his face,
He used his mighty sword to cut the "Z,"
To strike the terror in his enemies' hearts,
Like the fox he was, and El Zorro, his name.
