In the hour of the mighty surges.
Enough of gold, enough of blood.
Enough of ruins. Beat upon the drum!
The sword is drawn. Beat upon the drum of woe!
“It is the nails tearing the bleeding wound,
Robbery after murder. Must thou then
Mix all our gold with our blood for your drink?
We moved in ways of duty, faithful and true
To the King’s Majesty. His Majesty is perjured,
We are free of our oaths. Beat upon the drum of war.