Frog skins he wore each day as the protecter of the land!

All threats were slain with gleaming purpose and with his strengthened hand.

Enemies near and far all knew the Frosc knight’s name.

And fear they did for his valiant heart never could be tamed

You can hear him at the dawn of morn calling his victor’s call.

Which reverberated through all the land, bounced off the village walls.

Oh, la rana give me strength so I may forever be,

A protecter strong, revered throught the land but with Anonymity.

Oh, la rana give me change and a heart that understands,

Which evolves and aids in all ways that is possible for man.

Fourscore and ten years went by, but to his heart it seemed all but a day

His unconquerable will within him stayed as he rid each threat away.

There he stands a figure tall, a symbol of good will to all.

Then it came to him in rest, as rose and fell his tired breast.

Brave knight, christened with light who to the land yourself you gave.

And warded off with how sturdy a hand all threats the backward way.

Frosc protecter of the land I release you from your bond.

At last, truly you now may rest, so rest and carry on!

He layed down garb and sword for it was time, and called no more the morning rhyme.

And the land which faced no more threats, no longer needed his protection.

So, in his cottage he dwelleth without meaningful a name.

But still known throught the land they breathe, what he had called himself then.

He hears the children talk of the Frosc knight, and the parents tell his stories.

And how he left to be a peasant man still a hero wild and hoary.

Oh, la rana of whose skin I wore and whose symbolic means I bore.

Whose likeness I shared unwaveringly, fourscore and ten years.

I envy thee yet only me they remember, when they speak of the Frosc knight’s name.

They spake of me but not of you of whom I derive my strength.

One last prayer I whisper, one last on what is right,

When they look upon my face, they shall see a beauteous sight.

Let me appear as thee who traverses land, sea and tree and glides in flight!

His prayer was granted there and then at once he began to change

And metamorphosize into a Frosc of whom he bore it’s name.

You can hear him in the morn, and at night, and view the cottage where he once had been.

And view the frog skins which he had preserved which in past times he had worn

And to each child who spake his name and of his youthful might.

And to his sword which still now gleams, gleam on vibrant and bright!

No longer he dwells in a peasant cottage, in the land he a Frosc, oh what a sight,

I envy thee for only you could be the valiant Frosc knight!