The memory lingers on of the arrival of dawn.
They saw the beacon aflame,
Burning with sorrow for the lives that would be
And the troops went ashore,
Sounds of drums filled the air.
Towards the city they marched.
Called all the young
ones, called the old.
Summoned the people to stand up and be bold.
Fight a superior force for high society.
Holding the riches that forever could be lost.
Outside the city gates
The peasant army fights on
Cross the Field of Sorrow children's soul still cry
As an echo from the blackened day.
Cross the Field of
There are whispers and sighs
From burning anguish and dismay.
From the protection of walls
Beheld the blood stained
Reeking of sacrifice's shame.
Children and cripples of the battle that was lost.
Trembling hands open the gates
extortion of fire,
As they had nowhere to hide.
Fill up the barrels and chests with all your gold.
Build me a throne to rest
Fear not the fate of the fallen,
Hear not the cries of the crows.
And so they sailed off with the gold.
midst of the sea
They were caught by a storm.
Both booty and crew's lying deep.