by
When youngsters dream of fighting,
They think of Arthur's time.
With Lancelot off riding,
His battles pantomime.
The girls, they play the "ladies,"
The damsels in distress.
The guys, they kill the dragons,
Their enemies compress.
But those who know the story,
Must also know the end.
The Knights were to be slaughtered,
And Arthur never mend.
Great Arthur killed by Mordred;
The man killed every soul.
But was the King so different?
He killed still on the whole.
My father, he did tell me
This story every night:
No matter what your cause is,
You'll still be left to fight.
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