The Boy King

In the stories a boy was said to be born in the cold side of hell,
He was said to be standing on shoulders larger than his, shoulders of legends ,
A boy yes but a king as well,
A high born riding for the lives of peasants.

A song was sang for every battle won, 
And at home colourful banners swam the sky,
But that boy king was his mother's son,
And all she could do was kiss his brow and wave her son goodbye,

He rode not knowing his time was what the gods loaned,
She was forever knowing he would return a man or a pile of bones.