Flick of my wrist
And I'll have you at my feet,
If our fight is a conversation
Between our blades,
Mine is shouting
Yours blaring cowardice and fear.

Faint heart never won fair lady,
And fair lady always wins
Over faint hearts.
I'll slip my sword
Between your smart remarks,
And carve myself a plea.

I'll have you begging for mercy
In the flick of a sentence,
Rhymes have never locked me in,
But my rhythm will rattle your bars,
And knock your knees.

If you're looking to battle me,
I may as well weave you a rope
Of my poetry
To hang yourself on,
Because this is a fight I've already won.
Now excuse me,
I'm going to enjoy my lovely mug of tea.