Walk down to the mountains
And awaits you there
A pile of riches
Like angels hair
Hot breath melts
The stolen goods
Which rightfully ours
Singes our hoods
A fallen king
Means no more
To our enemy
As he falls to the floor
A sword glinting bright
Can match not his power
Which flames in the night
At such an hour
Abandoned friends
Now turn their backs
Leaving the princes of old
With their packs
Reclaiming the treasure
Is a hard task but we know
We all will fight
Bring your Swords! Bring your bows!
For with the strength of our ancestors
Now fallen, but here
We fill fight to the death
Against the beast's sear
We will reclaim our lost kingdom
And sit upon the thrones
Once more we will rein
No, we will not go home!
"For we must away,
Ere break of day,
To claim our long forgotten gold."