Excalibur, sword of kings
Hung down from his belt one early morn
He amongst the peasants, we were heading for a battle
Over some princess and a field of corn
A priest wearing black had cursed us
His laughter still echoed in my aching head
Too much wine last night, too much beer the night before
Too much blood tomorrow and pain

That night we camped in the woods
Where the trees seemed to whisper of myths I know of not
Leprechauns like priests were laughing in our faces
As he dreamt of an empty lot
It's there he found a cottage
Guarded by hangen dogs and neglected by the eye of time
And she lives there, where roses bloom at night
And a pale face scares even the moon that then cries

When he awoke the next morn, still drunk of sleep
The fear of battle cast his spell
The enemy was with many and with the devil's breath in our necks
I guess he did quite well
No victory that day, just the smell of the bushes and the blood
As we ran and ran away from that evil's place
Some ran straight to hell, others ran home to rest
But he ran into the woods to hide his face

That night he dwelled in the woods
Where the trees seemed to whisper of myths I know of not
Leprechauns, like the enemy, were laughing in his face
As he came to an empty lot
And there nearby the cottage
Guarded by hangen dogs and neglected by the eye of time
They kissed, where the roses bloom at night
And a pale face scares even the moon that then cries

© Tale 1996, 2001. Performed by Tale/Theo Niessink. Written by Theo Niessink.