Here, it resides, hilt up in marble
A beam cast on the steel blade for eye marvel
Monks’ low voices fill the deep Temple’s room
Their voices in praises instead of gloom
A boy comes, heart ready
Eyes on the sword, steady
He comes to the pedestal, hands on hilt
Great figure it is, best blade ever built
He pulls the sword, surrounded by blue light
The Temple of Time darkening into night
He falls to slumber, silence of seven years
Of hate, not a word
Because out of bravery,
He pulled the Master Sword
