Swords clashing, shafts flying
Never do they rest
Both sides, using their best
Many men are dying.

Never does it end
Five hundred years they've fought
Neither side has brought
Victory, nor an end

They are blinded by hate
Time passes them by
Black keepers of the gate
And creatures that fly

In mind they don't keep
How started this battle
Perhaps over cattle
Or maybe over sheep

Forever it will go
Not ending, and so
While their hatred does grow
Time for them does slow




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