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“The young must grow old, Whilst old ones grow older, And cowards will shrink, As the bold grow bolder. Courage may blossom in quiet hearts, For who can tell where bravery starts? Truth is a song, oft lying unsung, Some mother bird, protecting her young, Those who lay down their life for friends, The echo rolls onward, it seldom ends. Who never turned and ran, but stayed? This is a warrior born, not made! Living in peace, aye many a season, Calm in life and sound in season, 'Til evil arrives, a wicked horde, Driving a warrior to pick up his sword.” — Brian Jacques
The young must grow old,
Whilst old ones grow older,
And cowards will shrink,
As the bold grow bolder.
Courage may blossom in quiet hearts,
For who can tell where bravery starts?
Truth is a song, oft lying unsung,
Some mother bird, protecting her young,
Those who lay down their life for friends,
The echo rolls onward, it seldom ends.
Who never turned and ran, but stayed?
This is a warrior born, not made!
Living in peace, aye many a season,
Calm in life and sound in season,
'Til evil arrives, a wicked horde,
Driving a warrior to pick up his sword.