My legs have felt the pounding of a hundred thousand blows,
the times my sword has broken only God in Heaven knows.
Each blow onto my helmet jolts me clear down to my toes,
and I ain't gonna fight no more!
Chorus:
Glory, glory what a colorful bruise I've got,
Glory, glory what a colorful bruise I've got,
Glory, glory what a colorful bruise I've got,
and I ain't gonna fight no more!
On the morning of the tourney I stepped bravely on the field,
and then I saw my foeman and my senses they did reel:
He was six foot eight, three hundred pounds and forgèd out of steel,
and I ain't gonna fight no more!
He split my shield and cracked my helm and beat me to the ground;
my armor lay in tatters all the tourney field around.
They gathered it together though one boot they never found
and I ain't gonna fight no more!
And when the mélée teams were picked, my heart was filled with fear;
they put me in the foremost line although i craved the rear
The blows I took disabled me for almost half a year
and I ain't gonna fight no more!
So now when tourneys come around I watch them from the side
-- the blood and guts upon the field my body can't abide --
And with the lovely ladies on the sidelines I reside,
and I ain't gonna fight no more!