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Still I hear the old song,
it is sung by the birds and the leaves in the trees.
It is sung by the wind,
by the thunder and rain, by the waves in the seas.
It is sung by the merfolk, by gnomes and by dwarves,
in the rivers and mountains so deep;
it is sung by the fairies that dance in the woods,
it is sung where the unicorns sleep.

When the world was still young
and the weak race of man still had hearts true and proud,
Man did fight side by side
with the folk of the woods as an invincible crowd.
As a frightening army they rode through the mist,
with their weapon and shield by their side;
and the warrior´s song all the swordsmen did sing
as the black army rode in the night.

But the race of man´s weak
and it started to fight only for money and fame;
While the folk of the woods
fought for justice and truth, not for man´s greed and shame.
Thus the elves turned their back on man´s insanity
and the old friendship came to an end;
and the warrior´s song was forgotten by man,
who to gold and injustice did bend.

But I still hear the song
which is sung by the birds and the leaves in the trees,
which is sung by the merfolk,
by gnomes and by fairies in the mountains and seas.
And as long as my heart beats this song will be there,
for I know that the warriors still ride.
Yes, the race of man´s weak, but a few still remember
the old words of honour and pride.

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