• They came across the fields, row after row
    With their hearts full of rage from the blood and the woe

    They marched over the bodies of those who had fallen
    And stopped their ears to the dying who were callin

    The dying called for their friends and they called for their foes
    And for a drop of water they would have bartered their souls

    They where young and they were poor, some white and some dark
    But upon them all Death left his fateful mark

    They still march on, row after row
    And when they will stop only the Devil knows

    So when you would wish death upon your own mortal foe
    Remember these men with their souls full of rage and their minds full of woe