The shields were hung in, the hallway with care
In hopes that Lord British, soon would be there.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds
While visions of Ultima, danced in their heads.

And Blackthorn in his castle, and I in my tent
Had just settled our brains, from a day very well spent .

When out in Britain, there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed, to see what was the mattter.

Away to the village, I flew like a flash
Tore past all the people, in a very mad dash.

The moon on the breast, of the new fallen foe
Gave lustre of midday, to his sword aglow.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a serpented shield, and eight guards with spear.

A clever grand leader, encompassed with wit
I knew in a momment it must be Lord Brit.

More rapid than reapers, his prossesion came
He hollared and shouted, began to proclaim.

"Come,merchants!come,swordsmen!now,warriors and mages!
Come,archers!come,sailors!now,blacksmiths and sages!

To stop all the killing, to stop all the war
Come and join my good guards, for rich or for poor.

As people did mingle and murmurs uproared
A large crowd had gathered, they soon formed a horde.

So off to his castle, his prossesion flew
With large crowds of people - and Lord British, too.

And then, by a building, I saw a large group
With Blackthorn and his men and all of his troop.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around
A glance from Lord British, for he too heard the sound.

They were dressed in all platemail, from head to toe
They clashed and the fought with their very angry foe.

A bundle of veterans, all locked in arms
They showed grace and finese, without all the charms.

Their eyes were ablaze, with passion and fury
Shields like symbols, of immenent glory.

The archers did have strings, pulled tight on their bow
They fired away, arrows falling like snow.

O battle had ended, but with no clear winner
And as the smoke settled, it was time for dinner.

The streets were soon clear, the shuffling stopped
The mess was removed, the floors were all mopped.

Lord British and Blackthorn, each back to himself
Troops claiming victory, and praising themself.

British called one fighter, of courage and valor
To visit his castle, of prestige and power.

He entered the court, of Lord British the king
The feast was laid out, the bard's bells did ring.

British held his hand up, to get the attention
He wanted to speak, all would know his intention.

He knighted that warrior, before the soup dish
The fighter now, was the knight before British.

British said in a voice, of humor and delight
"Good adventures to all, and to all a good night!"