Tis the sword of the good Lord
That which he hung of his own accord
Just something to do because he was bored
Radiant glory is his divine reward
But then, the sun!
Now moon ignored.
From the scabbard twas pulled
Placed against darkness bejeweled
Left to make sure that Earth doesn’t cool
Held opposite the sun, in darkness she rules
Mover of tides
Iron core refueled