Steeling my resolve,
I challenged nature with a shout:
"Throw what you will at me,
you will not block my path,
for it is love that guides me,
I can survive your cruelest wrath,
but take pity on my men!
They don't deserve to hear the laugh
of fickle nature's whim,
as they breathe their dying last.
Let us through the land we're in!
We only beg you let us pass!"

I held a coin up to the wind,
And let it fall into the grass.
The men all did the same;
tradition from ages passed
still echoed to this day,
the sentiment unsurpassed