He wore luxurious robes

Made of Crimson and silks

A sword his sheath did hold

Handle dipped in iron and milk

Was not born royalty like the rest

Still up there as the King's best 

Given enough gold to bury him

But refused to be swayed by sin

He was loyal and pure of heart

Like that of a morning sky lark

Visiting the valley of the diseased

Giving them whatever they needed

His King was proud of this man

Causing a riot that was his end

But if you listen to aura's sound

You'll hear hoof beats all around 

~ Gypsy