I marched to the field with a gleam in my eye, My armour was polished, my spirits were high. But the moment I drew it, the crowd gave a jig, They all burst out laughing: “That sword’s too damn big!” My sword’s too damn big, it’s a burden and a curse, It’s longer than a sermon and heavier than a hearse. I swing it with glory, I swing it with pride, But I need three squires just to lift it and ride! I tried to unsheath it, it took half the day, The hilt hit a cow and the blade flew away. It cleaved through a tent and a barrel of swine, Then chopped down a tree that was nowhere near mine. My sword’s too damn big, it’s absurd and obscene, It’s wider than a wagon and sharper than mean. I duel with disaster, I parry with flair, But I need a parade just to carry it there! The blacksmith who forged it now lives in regret, He swears it was meant to be part of a set. The other half’s missing, presumed to be lost, Or stuck in a mountain, still counting the cost. "They say size don’t matter, but that’s clearly a lie, When your sword blocks the moon and makes dragons cry. I once tried to sheath it, it broke through the floor, Now the tavern’s a crater and I’m banned from the door." I challenged a knight with a blade made of gold, He laughed at my hilt and said, “Mate, you’re bold.” But one swing from me and his horse took a nap, Now he jousts with a broom and a leather-bound map. My sword’s too damn big, it’s a legend, it’s lore, It’s banned in five kingdoms and blamed for a war. I wield it with honour, I wield it with style, But I need a crane just to walk half a mile! So here’s to the knights with impractical gear, Who fight with a grin and a tankard of cheer. Raise up your goblet, let logic be rigged, And sing for the hero whose sword’s too damn big!
