| I heard it from the coldest gale
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| Perpetually the kingdoms fail
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| I tried to smile on this rebirth
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| Oh purile sons of mother earth
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| Shining pikes on a foggy brae
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| The morning dew waits to shroud
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| Each tear in their bloody eyes
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| When the foe of the land dies
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| Clarion pipes, proudly marching men
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| Thousands hum to the battle drum
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| (Forward! For the king and the crown!)
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| A legend for each men who falls to the ground
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| For each standing one a low lullaby
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| Desperation wields the sword, under a gonfalon of fear
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| A glimpse of glorious days shine in a widowed tear
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| I’ve been called to fight for my royalty
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| For my king at his right hand
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| Be a matter to my country
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| I spill my blood out on this land
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| And if I should die in this battle
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| It’s a noble thing I do
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| And if I should be a hero
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| Then I will return to you
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| The grace gave me my kingdom
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| My only royalty
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| Now to raise my sword against
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| A lord to protect my family
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| So I’ll fight for them tomorrow
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| March in the name of Tara
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| To see their children — parished
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| By an enthralled soldiers sword |