Onwards the path I ride
My sword is at my side
While enemies hide in the still of the glade

I see passersby
Stare with fearful eyes
Their sorrow stains the very light upon each face


Yet they still beckon for protection from harm
And offer meager coin to slay the monsters from the storm


Travel on, let the silence be sung
No-one can harm you now or evermore
When the morning comes, my time will be done
But I know evil will come beneath the setting Sun
Beneath the setting Sun


I'm wounded from the fight
I seek the inn tonight
To fill my belly full of pottage and ale

Few will advance to speak
No tales do they seek
Nor do they wonder how their savior prevailed


An outcast feared despite my heroic deeds
The common folk are weak of heart, and dwell on their own needs

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