Loud are the cannons of old
The old fragile, the young bold.
Here come the cavaliers!
Swords high, charging forth.
Muskets lowered, bayonets forth,
We hold together, like thick broth
Square formations, Square formations!
We hold, for here comes death.
They sweep amongst us, water over rocks.
But they cannot break through, like a solid lock.
We fire upon them, muskets crack.
Tumbling over, cries and squawks.
The sunlight peak over the lazy horizon,
Casting lightness over the strewn bodies of fallen comrades.
But this is what we joined in for, blood honour and filthy pillages.