The shepherd boy sits in his home,
his little sister by his side.
Forbidden to play and roam,
A battle is brewing outside.
The city is quiet and still
holding it's breath.
Afraid,yet with a will
prepared to face the coming death.
On the battlements stands the King
armoured in gold.
His kingdom covered in Spring,
His soldiers singing bold:
"We go to war!we go to war!
On fields near and shores far.
For home and honour
Our love our armour.
We fight through fire and snow.
Our fates we do not know.
To return to wife and child
Or on to the stars mild."
The enemy blows the horn
and marches forward.
The King's trumpets reply in scorn
and his army moves onward.
Amidst them rides a knight,
the bravest of them all.
Honoured for unsurpassing might,
inspires them with his call.
Hearing the clamour and the cries,
the little girl trembles with fear.
Her brother with tears in his eyes,
plays on his flute a tune so dear.
The song rises clear and beautiful
speaking of fields green.
It soothes the weak and the sorrowful,
reminding the happy times they have seen.
Despite their might and will,
the enemy proved stronger.
On white flowers does their blood spill.
The foe can wait no longer.
The setting sun finds the King
sprawled on the ground,
His crown now just a golden thing
stained by the blood all around.
The knight lies on the red grass
looking up at the darkening skies.
His eyes glazed like glass,
he leaves his honour and dies.
The enemy sets the city on fire,
the flames feeding on the gore.
The silence rises higher,
for the flute sings no more.