My heart does race
as I set the pace.
The pounding in my head
wont seem to end.
How could these two hands
spill the blood of man?

It was dark
with a cloak black as stark
He came at me
with a blade made of mail
Driving onward hard, aiming for my heart.

Quick as a flash
I brought forth my lash!
Spun it about the man
and broke his hand.
The sound was deathening
and my movements like quickening

I took his mail
and drove it like a nail!
Into his heart
he gave no more start.
Men came to holler
and caused quite a bother

Then my heart began to race
as I quickened my pace.