The Tale of Baby

The finest arms have names which everyone knows well; Of tales of mighty champions whose glory rose and fell; With rapture children listen, with awe the bards do tell; Of honor won in wielding, of glory none would sell.

A treasured few in number survive the bitter test; Absorbing well the blows of contests fought with zest; Continuing through the struggle when others would seek rest; To prove themselves with valor and be the very best.

One such blade called "Baby", massive, black and old; was wielded by Lord Aonghus in battle strong and bold; in fear the dead would tremble, what blood they had ran cold; At just the sight of "Baby" they fled, or so I'm told.

The Great Blade brought much glory and victories tis true; And with each passing battle the awesome stories grew; Twelve stood against the hoards, in number they were few; But in their hearts was loyalty, and with them honor grew.

The sword served well in battle, brought cursed souls release; And when the fields grew quiet its service did nae cease; dubbed lightly on both shoulders, the worthy did increase; for Justice is its mission in times of war or peace.

Lord Aonghus showed us all how to live up to the code; And forged deep in our hearts a permanent abode; His kindness and his mercy helped bear the heavy load; And as a True Knight passes, into the sunset rode.

The House called Daingneach Onoir still stands for fair and right; Teaching all in Wehnimer's of chivalry and light; Serving both in peace and war with wisdom, truth and might; With "Baby" leading on the way, whether day or night.