On the brim of dawn,
on the battle torn fields,
where the lilacs flow,
we will never yield.

Swords may clash,
with the shield I wield,
but we will never run,
we will never yield.

Flesh meets with sword,
sword meets with shield.
Battle cries are shrieked,
we will never yield.

And when sunsets,
on this ******, beaten field.
We will stand tall,
we will never yield.