Halt, halt, what else is to be sought Ought we to know that faulty we fought Wrath brought and taught the sword Forward and onward, our sword our word Cowards! Freeworld was our watchword Backward! Now our world shall be For wrath lords the world to our hurt. The world for gain is feigned to her pain. Pain is gain, let's rain the cane Vain is our pain, as we wane away Slain fill the plains in the name of gain Peace remains slain, till our veins are drained Alas! our pain not gain, And our lane is not sane Too late to be sane, our veins have become vain. We burrow with furrowed brow As heroes, we row but zero we sow Sworn to tow the road of old For our soul is low and too slow to row Howl the ode of old Pharaoh let my people go People let my pharaoh rest. Look to the red sea and take a chill heads bled the red, that colored the sea. A marching swarm of heels Turned she to a still heap of heads Only the silly heeds to her milky silky word The cry for war, the sound of battle The wrought of war is greater than its wrath Yet, not even the wise can tell it ends. Broke are we, yet we broker for war Our sores in scores Our sons are on the run And our daughters turn nuns Yet our burns we mourn not For flaws are our laws Our pride, we must side Woes betide us For our ties are tight And war rejoices on.