Quenching the Roman hunger
The bloated worms are here,
To gorge upon our children
And the dunghill to our fears
The dreamless sleep of d**h
And the frozen hand of Nero
In misty trails of blood
As never seen before
Embraced,
With d**h's disrobing hands
Our thirsting souls
We sacrifice
As cold as mouldering clay
Our remains will become
Shadows of time
To drink from sorrow's chalice
The dregs of malignant hate
We walk on broken eagles
At the foot of d**h's black gates
Ahead the dark red smoke
Behind untrodden snow
This battle will be fought
And no one will ever know
In memory we will descend
In awe-creating guise
Will anyone ever recall
The lost great British tribes