In deepest deep and darkest dark,  when you can’t hear a sound

and only the feel of your feet on the floor helps you tell up from down.

At times like these it’s really best not to make any sudden sound

for if you do, what’s stalking you might suddenly come around.

In downest down and blackest black, just a heartbeat away from death

when you can hear the sweat on your brow and can smell the grim reaper’s breath

when ordinary shadow would seem like a shining light

that’s when the enemy’s drawing near, best get ready to fight.

At farthest far and on highest high, where the gods wager on your fate,

laughing at the blood you so dearly spill and considering themselves great,

to get them to take you seriously and look up from their feast

you must rise up, take your sword in hand, reach out and slay the beast.

In warmest warm and bluest blue awaits your just reward.

Not gold or jewels or silver or even a magic sword,

but the kiss of a fair maid rescued, and the right of a just deed done

standing tall in a world of light,  a mighty victory won.

In legend told and camp song sung, there was a mortal man

who did great deeds and rode fast steeds, far and wide across the land.

Now he stands immortal,  remembered for his deeds well done

though he walks as an equal among the gods, among men he walks alone.

So if you would be remembered for walking the golden way

be alert and prepared to slay the beast, with virtue as your pay

and if the gods should call you to become immortal as they

remember a hero must always be so and never have feet of clay.

From - HEROES AND IMMORTALS

Freerover the bard

(C) 1989 By Bob Liddil  All Rights Reserved