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