O King the legions lie beyond the grassy knoll
I hear their battle cry, I feel the drummer’s roll
My blood doth stain the ground and life grows ever dim
My speech refrains from sound, the outlook is most grim.

For I have bravely fought, no quarter has been dealt
Your wisdom I have sought, upon my knees I’ve knelt.
And as our paths now part I bid thee well my king
until our trumpets start and angels softly sing.

The wealth of courage stands before the mighty foe
as warriors clasp their hands though death they surely know.
For as the light shall dim and fires shall feed the pyre
I’ll stand and fight for him, my King and Lord, my Sire.