On a muddy day, a prince has died,
Lords took their golden swords and to the castle they rode,
Knights took their golden knives and to the castle they rode,
One by one on their horses they cried for
they have lost not war but a godly prince who hasn’t even said ‘good bye’.
O Lord, here they arrive all in muddled strive, beside their queen they stand sad and cad, for they have lost their Dad.
Dead here he lies, all around him cries,
Here they rise one by one they stand where he crossed hands lands
Down
Down
Down
‘For dust you are and to dust you will land.’
Words of a Poet 