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