Black and red draped over ramparts.
Built by men in squalor.
Winked at us as we left.
It all behind.

Our parents lived outside these walls.
In a village far from here.
Could we return we might find.
That which we'd lost.

Friendship and fun.
Play that didn't come undone.
Whenever someone uninvolved.
Got themselves involved.

East of castle Sanguinair.
Blackened by the tide.
His men washed clean by victory.
Entertained by wine.

Came by the boatful.
Prideful, brash and boastful.
Little mind they gave ahead.
Spearheads laughed and bows did cry.
As helms marched ahead attached to mail and grime.
Many battles tempered fear with wisdom.
The knowledge that they knew.
Aided spear and guided shaft.
Passing through and through.

Once long ago it was but black and nothing else.
Now a splash of wine.
Had colored castle Sanguinair.
A color most divine.