A traditional ballad of an unknown hero. |
A tale is told Across the land About a man Who took a stand The king was old And feeling glum By his lords Was his kingdom run They taxed and jailed The helpless poor 'Til one day It could be stood no more One brave soul Rose in defense Took up his sword Against his sense He marched into The banquet hall As Lord Nevayne Hosted a ball He faced Nevayne With iron will Demanding freedom But still The Lord's corruption Had reached a stage Where not a soul Could make him change Nevayne then bid His guards attack Yet the man Held them back His sword danced Amongst their blades And cut them down Sent straight to Hades Nevayne then shook And feared for life As terror pierced him Like a knife He fell prostrate And begged reprieve Desperate for the mercy He might receive The man simply Sheathed his sword Then turned and left Without a word The Lord arose And he knew What it was That he must do With trembling hand He penned a decree And posted it For all to see The poor no more Would pay a due And that they Owed it to A nameless man Who faced Nevayne Who loved his kin And not his fame |