While out on the field she is gallant
A-toting a weapon or three
Her opponents she leaves by the wayside
A-wondering who she could be!
She fights so well in a melee
The enemy runs from her grin
And she's so proficient at combat
That her magic has killed many men!

CHORUS: Her sword, it shines like a mirror
Her shield is the best in the land
And her hair hangs out of her armor
All braided with bright silver bands!

The lads, they stare at a distance
The lady does not understand
That her countenance speaks of resistance
From the loveliest lass in the land
It's not that they dislike her armor
For chainmail is pretty to see
But at night she should hang up her weapons
For in bed, blades are bad company!

A young lad, he once tried to kiss her,
As back from the field she did stroll
But his nose got caught in her visor,
And now he resembles a troll!
A tale can be told of another
Who wanted this lady to court
But he rolled on top of her dagger
And now he is three inches short!

So take this advice, you young warriors,
When a lady has taken the field
Beware of the edge of her weapon,
And also the edge of her shield!
If you meet her again in the evening
More cautious yet should be your game
Or you'll travel home the next morning
A-feeling exceedingly lame!