From the roar of the horde
comes the call to arms,
and the ancient doth sigh
for shattered sweet calm,
and their breasts do swell
aye hearts they beat fast,
as the ancient sighs again
for he knows of this past,
glory they shall cry
and havoc will reign,
the dogs will out
aye ‘tis war once again,
they’ll ne’er come home
for they die in vain,
for the glory of those
who should hide in shame,
now the ancient doth wait
as the sun leaves the sky,
and tears they trickle
from his saddened eyes,
oh the war it will come
and the young they will die,
without ever knowing
why the ancient did sigh.
Eld