The Return

                                                                     By Woz  1995

 

The Holy Land is lost, l thought it never to be said

On the Horns of Hattin all my colleagues all dead

Of the greatest of knights, only I came back

Let the woman of Cyprus forever wear black

 

My charger is dead, my squire gone too

In the markets of Damascus where the slavers do

Give away white children with every good deal

They have so many of them they're not worth a meal

 

My lands are all forfeit to the Templars who

Lost all of their knights and their Grand Master too

The Hospitallers also lost all just the same

To Saladin the victory, forget not that name

 

It was a foolhardy venture with leper to lead

The misjudgement of place a terrible dead

One sickening battle wrong place wrong time

And the heathen shouts loud Outreamer is mine

 

They fought to the death, the Templars, the knights

And piled up their bodies with no priests or rights

To retreat or surrender they would not concede

And left none to regroup and counter the dead

 

Bleeding and bruised with the bodies half dead

The heathen he found me and I kept my head

Through the Great leader himself I left the plain

Of Saladin the merciful, forget not that name

 

I'm home back in England all battered and worn

My body is broken my tunics are torn

Of singing, of laughter I've forgot how

What more harm could possibly befall me now