Such is the feud, the foeman’s rage, death-hate of men

As we speak the peasants and the villeins and the scabrous lepers of Philthadelphia are packing up their meagre belongings, running to the hills, boarding up their crude, flea-infested hovels because they know.  They know what fate shall soon greet them, sword-bloodied, grinning, implacable.

Lo, There Do I See My Father

Lo, There Do I See My Mother

My Sisters And My Brothers

Lo, There Do I See My People

Back To The Beginning

Lo, There Do They Call To Me

And Beg Me To Take My Place

In The Halls Of Valhalla

Where the Brave Shall Live Forever

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