The men of past on iron struck
as they rightly shaped and wrought
forts they built with carven rock
for fame and glory the all fought
the knig's sword was rightly made
a lordly and a knightly blade
foes it will find, it's wrath un-kind
thus it's name will never fade
it slashed at mail, it pierced scale
it shone bright while foes went pale
it was fierce, it craved to pierce
when fighting swords, it shattered them frail
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