Riding to war, watched by their foes.

Brushing away the sweet damp slopes.

Crashing a forest of uninvited ships.

Baffling hurt eardrums and voice.

Rubbing tensed wrist like a giant.

Bloodletting the land

From which we sprung,

Staring face to face with the noire.

Gently helping to half a crown,

Thus shooting a fellow down

With nauseating scents of blood.