the story of a hero, the story of a thief -segunda parte-

Our little girl, now a world known thief
Had passed from a peasant
Into a thief guild the chief
to ever have caught her
no one could claim
and so, her once pretty name
know held up a bounty
from village to village
from county to county

but then, my dear children
our hero appeared
a sword in his hand
a smile in his face
and the people who saw him
saluted and cheered
for no one, my dears
was held in such grace
as was this loved hero
that walked in their land

he walked and he walked
he vanquished, he fought
oh such a brave hero!
The villagers thought

At last he had only
One bandit to kill
One pretty lady
Whose love was never fulfilled

The hero and the thief
Sought each other for combat
Neither hatred nor grief
Motivated their goals
‘twas the passion for glory
which nurtured their souls

at last they confronted
each other in battle
the sounds could be heard
of the weapons the rattle

for days and for nights
the battle went on
too equal their mights
for one to have won

but then a young boy
that naively passed by
near the fight lost a toy
and soon began to cry
the hero, so focused
on the opponent at hand
did not seem to notice
his footing on land

and running to meet her foe
he tripped and he fell
for a toy, stuck in his toe
finished this hero’s tale

for falling while holding a sword
not the smartest thing to do
and so our hero had a hole
by the time he hit the floor

the thief, with victory at hand
began to shout, began to laugh
she laughed so fully she laughed so hard
she didn’t notice
the dying man
that dying hero
whose last wish was
to vanquish evil
fulfill his cause

with a final blow
of a magic fire
the hero smothered
the thief’s desire

and so they died
they passed away
and noone cried
and their bodies were left
to rot and decay

for after the battle
that took both their lives
a little boy came
to look for a toy
one that he found
with oh! So much joy
and he saw with a start
a body burned by a flame

so he went back
to shout what he saw
the village confused
searched in their law
which said that whoever
survived an attack
and came back to boast
a heroes defeat
was to be made
a new famous hero
the weak people’s aid

and our hero
oh yes, that old vanquished hero
well, his dreams, his goals
his life-long achievments
no were just a zero

no one remembers
what dies in this world
not the fire, not the embers
that burn out the log
so why should one work
every day to improve
if the most stupid dork
can become a new hero
if his luck so approves?