A warrior dreamt a chilly night
Those swords clashed shields with all their might
When archers blocked the sun with arrows
Where men were struck by grief and sorrow.

He thought about his younger days
Through his mother’s eyes and assuring gaze
That even though he would love to carve
Destiny would make him fight and starve.

That someday he would have to swear
His life to a king who would not dare
To fight alongside for his greed and gain
Who would care about gold but not about grain?

Why couldn’t I be just a carpenter’s son?
And not have to fight under the blazing sun
As the world had peace if not for the kings greed
To plunder a village and make it bleed

The warrior haunted that chilly night
As it was not his first war to fight
But only if he could be a carpenter’s son
And not have to fight under the blazing sun