Twelve mailed men sat drinking late,
The wine was red as blood.
Cried one, "How long then must we wait
Ere we shall thunder at the gate,
And crush the cursed brood?"
Twelve men of iron, drinking late,
Strike hands, and pledge a cup of hate:
* "The Day!" (Mike Jones)

Twelve mailed men sat drinking late, The wine was red as blood. Cried one, "How long then must we wait Ere we shall thunder at the gate, And crush the cursed brood?" Twelve men of iron, drinking late, Strike hands, and pledge a cup of hate: * "The Day!"

Related topics

blood cry cup day drinking ere gate hate iron men late red strike thunder twelve wait wine hands

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