The Ride of the Chevaliers
By Ironsword


The thunder of a thousand hooves,
The deep peal of drum,
They swagger past in snaking lines,
Their great march begun.

Their banners flutter noiselessly,
Atop the forest of spears,
Their steeds champ and whinny,
Flicking back their ears.

Armagnacs, Lombards and Gascons,
Livery gleaming bright,
Silver armoured champions,
Young aspirant knights.

To the field then my men-at-arms,
To answer Henrys’ call.
To drive them back to the channel,
Bootstraps, carts and all.

France has mustered and risen to fight,
And all her sons have come,
For this wondrous and mighty host,
Agincourt has begun.