There was a knight,
A man of foul tastes and fouler intentions,
Scorned by lords and radiant ladies,
A brutish giant of a man,
Fallen out of court favour,
Settling to escape from the disapproval,

This knight turned that scorn outward,
Turning to punishing the serfs,
A wandering tyrant,
Chivalry turned to banditry,
A wolf in iron clothing,
A kingslayer,

This was no Robin Hood,
But a plate mail monster,
No silver tongues,
Just silver daggers and silver morningstars,
Claiming to be a knight errant like any other,
But searching for vice over virtue,

Along with his merry band of cutthroats,
He revelled in flesh and loot and fury,
A plague on the realm,
A steel cyclone,
Tearing a scar of hate across the nation,
Until a feeble monarch deigned to act.

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