My weapons in hand,
Of no contest afraid;
I'd ever be ready
To strike the first blow,
And to fight my good way
Through the ranks of the foe.
But then, let me tell you,
No blood would I shed,
No victory seek o'er
The dying and dead;
My weapons in hand,
Of no contest afraid;
I'd ever be ready
To strike the first blow,
And to fight my good way
Through the ranks of the foe.
But then, let me tell you,
No blood would I shed,
No victory seek o'er
The dying and dead;