In the ages dark, in a time of war, when fear enslaved all man,
When our kingdom lay in fragments with no king to rule the land,
I saw the sign upon the stars that at last an heir would rise;
To draw the sword out of the stone and heed all Britain’s cries.

The Kingsword drawn, the crowd rejoiced and a feast was held that day
Yet the signs upon the stars foretold a darker fate.
For a time the King could dream and unite the blood-soaked land
With a golden age of chivalry and the knights of the table round.

Raise the Kingsword and ride into the sacred realm,
Sleep under the stars, become one with the land.
Amongst the forest glades, in which the mystic creatures dwell;
Live by the sword and die for the quest at hand.

Men rode forth from all around to the court of the dear King;
For the glory of being knighted and the chance to fight for him.
The Orkney Kings unsettled, the talk of war did rise
And soon the Northern traitors heard our battle cry!

‘The sword drawn, the squire risen to greatness and the people of the land united, but it seems in tragedy that innocence is not enough. Alas I have seen what travesties have yet to unfold: fire, blood, murder, lust, darkness and, worst of all, betrayal…..’

The fairest maiden came to court to whom the king his heart did pledge
The golden crown, the table round and shortly they were wed.
That very eve an honoured knight did join the table round;
Born of the lake and born to joust he made the dear king proud.

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