I'm the last of the kind of the great pipers
bastard son of the great god pan
Come to a forest with a cold north wind
you might hear my penny-whistle sing
I've travelled the world for hundreds of years
and I sure know what's going on
I've been to caves and mountaintops
today the nature is not too strong
The cancer be eaten by a giant worm
death being spread everywhere
now is the time we shall have our revenge
and take the final share
I'm the last of the kind of the great pipers
bastard son of the great god pan
No more forest but a cold north wind
can hear no penny-whistle sing.