The Black Prince bore his heart in hand
Knowing the cost of battle and action
Whatever the force's composition
The nobles and their armies
Fighting over strips of land
Pretending that each faction
Would live, not becoming apparitions
Haunting the battlefields and castles seized
He looked upon the king and retinue
Fallen in a heap with crows about to feast
Did not cry for the loss
But the world was broken
For the practice of war politique
