My tears for you were spent and fled
As thoughts within your blessed head

But here you are, in bloodied veil
Good lord I say, to thee we hail

Your father's dead, your brother near
The war cries yet we still can hear

You rode off without second look
My heart along with you you took

Ride out with king and legions hale
And leave me in this topping gale

That is called love, a fickle thing
Which was forgot for thought of Ring

Yet tarry here, I'd words to say
But they'll wait for another day.

Oh warring love, for thee I fear
My handsome Prince, my Boromir.