And let he who hath no honour,
Cast the first stone.
Born of the serpent,
Their bastard trinity trembles in fear,
Behind armour of scorn.
Mocking the valour of those proud enough to stand mighty,
To stand true.
But no more,
For I would cast them out from the glory of the sombre
Let them bask in the radiance of the winter moon,
Pluck out their weak and worthless hearts
So no more they profane this hallowed kingdom.
Aye, and let my words ring clear
Throughout Albions fair lands
So all our brethren rejoice.
That our time of deliverance is at hand
The might is upon us
And on her black wings we shall ride....
.... TO VICTORY