Forlorn Trope Songtext
von Witheren

Left the place in haste like so many born
On the island where you first saw the morn
Divided by empires and torn apart
By wars, they remain rebel at heart

Are we peasantry, no pleasantry
Gathering pitchforks against the lords?
Switch times forth, call ′em investors
New weapons and new upon New Model armies
Kids with bin lids, when out Saracens roll
We know too well for whom the bell tolls...


Those who won't bend knee to pope or queen
Abhor the kakistocracies, don′t be
Found caught up in the Patriot's Game
Or chanting No Surrender before bonfire flames

This ain't just about you
Or me or him or her
Or any one of us for that matter...

No loose cannon can match the broadsides
Fired in rhythm with oppressive snide...
When you′ve all to loose, but have so little
And if some day we′re to go down in battle
Let's do it together, not as lone jokers
But side along brothers, sisters and others...

With casualties always so high amongst enfants perdus
Can they count on you?