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Down from the glen came the marchin' men |
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With their shields and their swords. |
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To fight the fight they believed to be right, |
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Overthrow the overlords. |
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To the towns where there was plenty |
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They brought plunder, swords and flames. |
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When they left, the town was empty, |
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And the children would never play again. |
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From the graves I heard the fallen |
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Above the battlecry. |
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By that bridge near the border, |
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There was many more to die. |
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And onward over the mountains, |
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And out towards the sea. |
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They come to flame the emeralds, |
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Without it they could not leave. |
