The Holy Grail empty,
Arthur raises his glass.
The bartender gives a look
As Arthur downs his glass and raises it once more.
Surrounded by his closest friends,
The night goes on.
A table round, and all gathered around.
Tales of trauma and glory flow like the beer on tap.
A bloody battlefield and a hard-fought victory.
A bloody battlefield and bitter defeat.
Those lost. Never to be seen again.
The memories that fill their nightmares and haunt their days.
They close their eyes,
And they’re back once more.
Under the table they dive,
Hiding from bullets.
The noise of a dropped glass,
Sending men scurrying as they remember.
Korea, Vietnam, Germany.
Side by side, onward they march.
Tanks instead of horses.
Guns instead of swords.
Wars instead of quests.
Soldier instead of knight.
General instead of King.