| News that came that morning told that the main force had been slain
|
| Chance for peace and justice gone and all talks had been in vain
|
| A prince had been offended and he has gone the path of war
|
| Now that 1500 men are dead and the Zulu’s at the door
|
| Zulus attack
|
| Fight back to back
|
| Show them no mercy and
|
| Fire at will
|
| Kill or be killed
|
| Facing, awaiting
|
| A hostile spear, a new frontier, the end is near
|
| There’s no surrender
|
| The lines must hold, their story told, Rorke’s drift controlled
|
| Later on that fateful day as they head towards the drift
|
| Stacking boxes, fortify, preparations must be swift
|
| Spears and shields of oxen hide facing uniforms and guns
|
| As the rifles fire, echoes higher, beating like the sound of drums
|
| Zulus attack
|
| Fight back to back
|
| Show them no mercy and
|
| Fire at will
|
| Kill or be killed
|
| Facing, awaiting
|
| A hostile spear, a new frontier, the end is near
|
| There’s no surrender
|
| The lines must hold, their story told, Rorke’s drift controlled
|
| 1879, when a few held the line
|
| Back to back, attack, the dead are stacked
|
| Where a last stand was made, and the empire saved
|
| Back to back, attack, the dead are stacked
|
| Zulus attack
|
| Fight back to back
|
| Show them no mercy and
|
| Fire at will
|
| Kill or be killed
|
| Facing, awaiting
|
| A hostile spear, a new frontier, the end is near
|
| There’s no surrender
|
| The lines must hold, their story told, Rorke’s drift controlled |