Who is this that strokes my cold face?
I'm here, beneath the sloping heather
Come...close your eyes
put your head against this earth
I'll tell you my story of death by invader's blade

A dragon from the south, red gold it shone
in the heat of Haerfestmonath
winding its way unto the fort of Wych
Some braced with a stake
we took our place on slingshot skyline
We children all knew the war song

I rained my stones at the tribes
and felt the battle inside
as elders slew, and fell at long range
I heard the gate crash and the swords clash
and the stab in my side, open wide
as I fell into the red and wet ditch
And I cried
for my father, my mother
my sisters, my brothers
and then the gods
Come with me...it's alright