O banished one, we bow once more before your feet
You rose from the woods, of your cold island
Now make all and one; serve you as capable slaves
Your laugh void of remorse, an old elegy not of this world
Thine heart is hard, begging is for naught.
And your tale is certain, to be triumphant
Master of the sea & the high lands; sparks fly from your eyes
This now the last spring; the banks of rivers red with blood
You have but to knock; and the doors of heaven flies open
Warships have left port & hells engines are burning
Smoking fumes and burning fires. This is your age
Whisky! Demon!
You rose from the woods, of your cold island
Now make all and one; serve you as capable slaves
Your laugh void of remorse, an old elegy not of this world
Thine heart is hard, begging is for naught.
And your tale is certain, to be triumphant
Master of the sea & the high lands; sparks fly from your eyes
This now the last spring; the banks of rivers red with blood
You have but to knock; and the doors of heaven flies open
Warships have left port & hells engines are burning
Smoking fumes and burning fires. This is your age
Whisky! Demon!