“I drink not to king in castle strong
With fighting men at call
Who boasts behind his armored throng
That lay within his wall.
But fear to leave their draw bridge gates
In numbers or alone
Without their blades and armor plates
They’re but a stingless drone.

I drink to thee, a giggling clown
With garments well befit
Thy smile is armor for the frown,
No weapon but thy wit.
Thou go eat alone and weaponless
Where armed men fear to trod
For steel and blade are devil made
But wits a gift of God.”

C.M. Russell