March, Ye Bandits

March, Ye Bandits,
and open the gates
to the old road,
o’er bridges;
the hour is late.

March, Ye Bandits,
like prisoners chained
to the pillars,
then gallows;
undoubtedly hanged.

March, Ye Bandits,
ye scoundrels, ye swine
to the wild,
the public;
with absence of lines.

March, Ye Bandits,
and tear down the walls
to the village,
the kingdom;
may fear be installed.

March, Ye Bandits,
the fires will spread
to the buildings,
the townsfolk;
the ashes of dead.

March, Ye Bandits,
with trophies in hand
to the fortress,
the temples;
the conquer of lands.

March, Ye Bandits,
o’er bodies and graves
to the forests,
the rivers;
may no one be saved.

March, Ye Bandits,
ye servants of hate
to the old road,
o’er bridges;
the hour is late.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s