To arms!

Yon nights of olde, your Lord and Master calls
Bear him to the triumph, men, lest the triumph fall

Don shining armor, men, the silver catching light
Lift your sturdy shields again, prepare for the fight

On the horizon, men, O Beauty standing tall!
Victory wields her sword, clear voice calling all.

And there her arms extended, a slender waving line
Catching promised glory mended, now yours and mine

To arms!

The wind strikes discordant note, low and hollow from within
Hearken to the captain's call, hearken now, my men.

Passing shiver, nervous glance, a silence now descending
Shining helm, gleaming lance, a fortress we defending

What thunderous sound-it tears the skies, rips the clouds in half-
Sending men to the ground, mouths frozen, horror gasp.

The light it strikes, shining now, hailing from the sky
Breaking hearts, death descend, shrapnel in our eyes

And what cold, empty beast, its cannon flashing now
As it treads across the battlefield, its sailor at the prow

A rumble in the distance, men, like death a stormy wail-
--But we must charge again, lest our triumph fail.

Rise, my knights, rise-O how you slump in death!
Rise, my knights, rise, our doom awaits us yet.

Hear the ceaseless clapping sound, leaving bloody trail
Fall, my knights, fall, for it has torn your mail

Our swords cannot fight these guns, these merciless machines
And look, there cold and dead lies Victory, our Queen.

To arms, my men,

To arms!