Europe’s Sons, adopted by God
Have abandoned faith, and forgotten Kin
Now bear the Father’s wrath and rod
Until repentance for such sin
Judgment takes the form of a dark souled storm
Europe undergoes Abaddon’s locust swarm
Will a word of warning come from God’s Kirk?
An expected siren from the place of truth?
Alas, the prophet’s voice is now berserk
And the Holy desk is now carnival booth
Judgment takes the form of a dark souled storm
Altering the Kirk into Apollyon’s form
A consecrated remnant can still be found
A band of blades for Christ supplied
But enough to halt Hell’s Cerberus hounds?
And to turn back the rising dark souled tide?
Relief must come from He who calmed the storm
And those committed to Christ’s Reform
Arise ye clan of bards, prepare for siege
Ye sons of Christ and Europe’s blood
We must defend our Lord and Liege
We must roll back the Dragon flood
For Christ and Country and Kith and Kin
For ours as yet unborn we must win