Hark the herald, the war drums beating. Hark the call - the call to arms! Sally forth and no retreating, saddle thy horse, raise the alarm! The king hath decreed us knights do battle for the honour of his fair queen Now we ride to meet the brutes on their own ground; Mace, steel and lance has vengeance found! Kill! Burn! Waste the wenches! Hark the herald! The King wants blood! Deep entrenched, Lord Asquith is hiding in his fort, portcullis is down. Lay siege will we, and yeild will he, to declare the innocence of our queen (the whore!) Kill! Burn! Waste the wenches! Hark the herald! The King wants blood! Women crying - Witches saying Banners flying - Knights dying!