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There is a man with a chain, swinging it around and around,

Then it wacks my armour with a sickening thud,

I can see the red, the red of my blood.

The man swings the chain around his huge frame,

He is going to hit me again and again,

And then through the air comes a whistling sound,

An arrow hits his head and he falls to the ground.

I try to get onto my elbow to see,

How much damage has been done to me,

Inside my iron chest plate it is lovely and warm,

Wet and sticky, it's not good, but I'm very calm.

So I lay there in this muddy, cold battle site,

The day is fading it will soon be night,

I think of the fires around our great camp ground,

Staring into flames dreaming of home, loved ones around.

But alas this will be my very last day,

I'll bleed out and freeze, my life ebbing away,

So I lay on my back and look at the sky,

I'm still very calm and I wonder why?

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