That Field of Clover

Laying in a field of clover, my white shirt stained with green The day is almost over, the sun hides in-between The white spun clouds of Autumn, above the castle’s lawn I mean to pass the time here, until the break of dawn I wake to feel the sun, beat on my placid face And so I rise and walk, a slow and tranquil pace A team of trotting horses, pulling canons pass me by The knights are close behind, I hear the victory cry And so I join my men, on this a forlorn day Preparing for the armies, heading fast this way I grab my lance and shield, and kneel to say a prayer And soon to mount my horse, and lead it from it’s lair My armor now feels heavy, my horse begins to sag My duty to the queen, and to my country’s flag Has moved me to forget, the field where once I laid And off to war I go, I dare not be afraid Through days of mortal combat, and cries of dying men I sped through scenes of carnage, and crossed the bloodied glen That led us to the battle field, beyond the Cliffs of Dover And trampled through in hundreds, across that field of clover