He Was So Pure
The blacksmith's call came in last night
Startled from bed and full of fright
Pressed into service, make a sword
Adorn it, sharp, they'll live no more
Sweat on his brow, he worked all night
Pleased his swords were his delight
He set the jewels, for extra measure
I must honor the master, 'tis for his pleasure
Finishing touches, the master arrived
He paid his wage, his eyes gleamed wide
A long road, then, atop the hill
He drew the sword, held high and still
He pierced His side, now death for sure
And then came forth a blood so pure
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