1692, the 29th of May
Sir "Tourville", the admiral, his fleet is on its way
He commands his ships to fight, they attack the
british line
He must be caught in senseless pride, to him his honour's prime
His mighty flagship strong and brave, heading for
the fight
It puts the british men to grave, cruising through the tide
The veil of night obscures the sea, the tables getting
turned
Confusion rules, no chance to flee, his fleet is getting burned
Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of
death
Wipes away too many men, takes away their breath
Heat and fire, burning pyre
Smoke and flames, a raging hell
Death
and blood, the fatal rub
Blows away "Soleil Royal"
Their position's getting intricate, heading for "Cherbourg"
Desperatly
they dare their fate, they feel too much secured
Cannons fire round by round, the smell of acred smoke
Vibrating hull from top to
ground, shacken by its poke
Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death
Wipes away too many men, takes away their
breath
Heat and fire, burning pyre
Smoke and flames, a raging hell
Death and blood, the fatal rub
Blows away "Soleil
Royal"
To cape "Barfleur" they try to flee, the battle's raging hard
Balls of lead rushing the sea, hit the hull windward
The
english-man hard on their trace, follow turn by turn
A heavy round, the coupe de grace, tearing up its stern
The powder in the
storage room, litten by a spark
Bursting kegs, a giant boom, tear the decks apart
The blood spills of the scupperholes, the sea is
turning red
No time to pray, no bell to toll, no burial for the dead
Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of
death
Wipes away too many men, takes away their breath
Heat and fire, burning pyre
Smoke and flames, a raging hell
Death
and blood, the fatal rub
Blows away "Soleil Royal"
Heat and fire, burning pyre
Smoke and flames, a raging hell
Death and
blood, the fatal rub
Blows away "Soleil Royal"