The Ballad of Arthur Shiningmane
From Changeling Venue
Devoted to a man whose name will not be forgotten.
For this is the ballad of Arthur Shiningmane.
Let us remember him, and the strength we all found, the sacrifice we all made.
For this is the ballad of Arthur Shiningmane.
From among the meek and not the mighty,
He tended the steed and saddle
His a simple task, though he treated it as more.
She enjoyed the hunt and game
And when things were not to her liking
Sometimes Arthur was to blame
The stables were far, and so he was alone
When we were together.
Rumors and hear say would never make it his way
Nor would the scraps of dinner
He was meek, and thin
Feeble, long limbs
But in the end, he had a Shining mane.
She slapped him down, when the foul flew away
Then he decided to take it not her way
Saddles he crafted from the flesh of the stray
So he took his leathers, and made a flay
He marched and rallied
We gathered and carried
A new vigor like sentry.
All the servants raised
All the slaves braved
But it was Arthur, the meek, the weak, the thin and unknowing
who struck her with the leathers of his craft till she bled the mark of her banner.
When she laid still, Arthur the brave, courageous, roared with the suns glow.
The shackles slipped from wrists, while the collars dusted on necks
It was Arthur Shiningmane, who slayed the cruel and led us through the thorns.
Remember the brave.
Remember the might
Remember Arthur Shiningmane forever of the Summer Court.
