Charles of Whithorse |
We march. We march. We march to war
Come ye bards and sing thy songs
To the beating drum and the Dragon's roar
When the din of war is gone
For the crown we'll fight and die
At the fires, our memories feed
Come sound the horn and raise the cry!
With tales of all our hero's deeds
Come valiant ones in armour bright.
Thy foes will quail at the sight
As thy ranks pour o're the hills
To crush them all, their blood to spill
Come spears and pole arms gather round
Charge to battle when horns sound
Thy thrust be true their lives to take
Upon thy points their lines will break.
Come Archers, all with shafts so keen
The finest bowmen to be seen
The very air thy arrows hue
As they with speed, do strike so true.
Come Rapier fighters, blades of steel
Thy skill the foe will surely feel
The Crown commands thy best to do,
So press them hard and pierce them through.
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