Excalibur

I am a weapon -
A king maker and a king breaker.
I am mettle -
Made strong by scortching forge and hammer blow,
Honed keen by rough stone.
By the hands of the clever smith,
I am made with one purpose - 
To serve a worthy weilder until their cause is won,
Then be returned to wait until the next crusade.

Too long have I stayed idle in this stone,
Refusing service to the crooked hand.
Now at last I am drawn forth,
Freed from my sheath and cleaned of rust.
The grip is firm and the arm is sure and true,
The happy edge bites bone again.
Who weilds me has no face or name.
They have no strength nor weakness save the blade.

I am a weapon -
Kings have I broken and a king have I made.
I thirst no more that vile blood is spilled,
And ring with joy that the work is done.
The bearer wipes the gore away with care,
Then gently leaves me to my stone until the next crusade.

Let all the meek and mighty hear my promise:
If your want is good and vision clear,
You may have need of me and so I beg you,
Have the will to take me up and when your task is done,
Have the will to lay me down again.