Fire arrows the sun did rain. But am I the arrow or the flame? Born in heat and with great pain. Maybe I the arrow with pain of flame.
Catapults fling rocks and heavy things. Trebuchets desire for things to throw higher. Which will you throw me from?
I knew her, Ballista. To load I would twist her. When she broke I did miss her. It took three to assist her. But when the enemy shot they didn't miss her. And their shots it did split her. My dear Ballista, now I do miss her.
The Siege Tower was built in an hour! My lord gave me praise, he gave me flowers! Then he gave orders, he yelled, he hollered! Get this to the wall, you yellow cowards! When asked, would I be the first to ascend this tower? Quite nicely I said, hell no! It was only built in an hour!
Double, double, boil and trouble. I make the oil to pour on the soldiers, on the double. Be they fried or fricasseed. The more I see the more oil there be. If it's cold it does no good. So I make it boil just as it should. Nice and hot just like I'm told. Just to pour through the murder holes.
To die on some medieval battlefield, what a waste. Like dying on loves battlefield same bitter taste. The weapons are changed to protect the innocent. But the death is the same no matter which way it went.
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