From the chapel of saints
To the battlement walls
A lone piper he plays
Dead warriors they call
In coloured glass windows
Dead rulers survey
The descendants of war
In tapestries portray.
Beyond lie the fields
Once bloodied and stained
In defence of the country
The crown and the state
Their armour now stands
Still just as proud
Those who wore it
Now under the ground.
But at night in darkness
Heavy feet upon stone
Still engaged in warfare
In defence of their home
You can hear the cries
The clash of each sword
The sighs of the dying
The deads energy stored.