did cut like a scythe through hay And blood from the wounds did feed the thirsting soil The ravens watched, impatient for their hour Hungry for the flesh
Fearless and angry they rode Their horses black as night The earth trembled beneath their feet And none did stand in their way In numbers full fifteen
more we stand and figh Our triumph soon at hand In battle shining brigh Glory is beckoning with lustre and fame We ignore the banners of truce and set
Thrice-damned and chosen to die Through charnel clouds and mortar dust Dark ruin and empty despair Pierced and mangled by blackened iron Scented with sin and
soon soak'd with blood With superior courage and arguments of steel Their claim both right and just His soldiers fell despite their might All pierc'd by arrows and spears And
lonely man on a lonely journey Bewildering ways he rode The heavens did not treat him fairly And the winds did chill him to the bones Through icy storms and
we caused With our blades we hewed their king And let his life go forth Gilded helmets and splendid weapons Fast horses and shining coats of mail Well prepared for spoil and
or to join with the gods Longing for morn, the our of play To join in battle under the sun Eternal fame to those who live through the day And no death