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I heard it from the coldest gale
perpetually the kingdoms fail
I tried to smile on this rebirth
Oh purile sons of mother earth

Shining pikes on a foggy brae
the morning dew waits to shroud
each tear in their bloody eyes
when the foe of the land dies

Clarion pipes, proudly marching men
thousands hum to the battle drum
(Forward! For the king and the crown!)

A legend for each men who falls to the ground
for each standing one a low lullaby
desperation wields the sword, under a gonfalon of fear
a glimpse of glorious days shine in a widowed tear

I've been called to fight for my royalty
for my king at his right hand
be a matter to my country
I spill my blood out on this land

And if I should die in this battle
it's a noble thing I do
And if I should be a hero
then I will return to you

The grace gave me my kingdom
my only royalty
now to raise my sword against
a lord to protect my family

So I'll fight for them tomorrow
march in the name of Tara
to see their children - parished
by an enthralled soldiers sword

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