Here is my rusted helmet, this is my broken shield. You may wonder how I survived it, what happened on the field.
I believed the king was right, the rebel leader wrong. Out of the great battle we fought in, the minstrel made a song.
I rest now in this chapel, seems the true place to be. Say a prayer and think of what happened, if anyone is free.
It ever was a tangle, it ever was a mess. The doctor was right about the wound, the pain grows less and less.
I loved the woods in summer, I loved the stars at night. I was moved by fine words on the page. Wish I knew which were right.
Now read the final pages that will complete my tale. Though mist and shadow lies on my quest, I know I did not fail.