I have a story I would like to tell,
About the battle of Agincourt so listen well.
I have rusted in the mud for 600 years,
Buried alone with my memories and tears.
The day started brightly and the troops were all ready,
My brave English archer was holding me steady.
As we were waiting I saw the French advancing,
I felt frightened and nervous, my insides were dancing.
My archer fired and through the air I was flying,
A French soldier saw him and soon he was dying.
My journey then ended in the vile stinking mud,
All around was destruction, bodies and blood.
The years passed by as I lay on the ground,
The grass and the flowers grew up all around.
I have lay here forgotten growing rusty and old,
Now you have found me and my story is told.