Slash the blade and make it sing –
Whirl the blade and flash the steel.
Parry, thrust, then cut and sting –
Sing a sword-song, music make –
Hack the foeman, hew him down.
Slake your thirst in orcish blood –
Flash the steel, whirl the blade,
Fighting, force the bandits back.
Hew their limbs and lend all aid
Blooded, whetted, cease to thrust –
Aftermath of waiting, keening.
Foes are dead, now rest you must –
Death has meaning.
Life has meaning.