Twin brothers there were, come from Foralie-town
  The Graemes of Dorsai were they;
  The finest of soldiers on all fourteen worlds,
  Fourteen worlds, fourteen worlds,
  Yet were as different as night is to day.
 
  The sunshine of midday 'round Kensie was seen;
  The brightness of two men had he.
  But Ian was grim as the black dark of night,
  Dark of night, dark of night:
  No blood but ice-water was his said to be.
 
  In Blauvin on St. Marie Kensie did die,
  From ambush by sniper was slain.
  The soldiers that followed him called for revenge,
  For revenge, for revenge,
  But Ian refused them again and again.
 
  The Mayors of St. Marie feared for their towns:
  Reminded of Rochmont were they.
  Blauvain stood surrounded; the troops they did vote.
  They did vote, they did vote.
  Six hours were allowed, then a search would be made.
 
  Ian followed the killers to their hiding place
  And faced them alone so the say,
  And all unarmed slew them with just his bare hands,
  his bare hands, his bare hands.
  So the blood-debt to the full they did pay.
 
  The soldiers passed by, full ten-thousand and more
  As Kensie in honor did lie.
  And citizens followed them, half-again more,
  Again more, again more,
  Bidding their hero the final goodbye.
 
  When Ian came last to the casket, alone
  Some thought that no feelings had he.
  But some bleed inside where the wounds do not show,
  Do not show, do not show...
  And two had been one, which could nevermore be.