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The Battle
Brian Willoughby
,
Dave Cousins
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
In the early dawn the bishop's men shivered in the damp
But the shiver came not from the cold and spread throughout the camp
The trembling horses sensed the fear of silent thoughtful men
Who prayed their wives and families might see them once again
The bishop sent a dawn patrol to investigate the wait
But the forces at the king's command had sconced behind the gate
The ground mist hid the patrol's approach
As they drew close enough to show
The sentries on the battlements and an archer drew his bow
From the topmost tower a sentry fell as an arrow pierced his skull
And his headlong flight into the moat seemed soon to be done
The patrol reported little, there was nothing much to see
But the strong and silent castle, a symbol of the free
The king's men took communion as the first rays of the sun
Lit up the chapel's gloomy walls that they had all day begun
From the gulls so green the rooks took
Flight to the high trees in the east
To their carrion minds the battlefield set a table for a feast
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A tide of black the bishop's men, equality their right
Swarmed like ants across the hill and ran at last in sight
The king's men dressed in purest white were driven back by force
And the fighting grew more violent as the battle took its course
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The bishop gave the order, no mercy to be shown
The sacrifice would reap rewards for the king's overthrown
The sight of children lying dead made hardened soldiers weep
And the outer walls began to fall as they moved towards the keep
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When the anxious king began to fail as many thought he might
The queen ran screaming round the walls and urged her men to fight
But the bishop's men were tiring as the afternoon grew late
And the king's men lowered the drawbridge
And poured out through the gate
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They fought their way across the bridge, their men like falling leaves
For years of gall had worn in swathe the bishop's sickle cleaves
The tide receded up the hill, the waste of reclaimed land
Once decaying swamp became a shore of pure white sand
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A blinded priest was seen to bless both the dying and the dead
As he stumbled around the battlefield his cassock running red
He made no distinction between black
Or white, his eyes could never see
And death made no distinction whatever man he be
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As darkness fell both camps withdrew, their soldiers slain like cattle
Leaving the rooks to feast alone on the victors of the battle
And even some of camp's rebuke disturbed depleted ranks
As survivors of the battle gave god their grateful thanks
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