The Horde (Witchlords)

The old world calls to arms
It trembles on its feet
A horde is fast approaching
The air smells of defeat

The city gates are opened
And men flee into the keep
Our spears and hearts are sharpened
The onslaught we will see

I look upon the west gate
I see my comrades fall
A wizard casts his ghastly spell
He almost burns us all

A volley in the masses
Erects a stream of blood
The green horde keeps on coming
The gate falls with a thud

Are you ready
To fight
We are ready
They cry

We charged the gate
We charged the walls
We lost our friends
We filled the halls with blood

We are warriors
We are born to die
Our blood runs cold
While the women cry

Kill ‘em all
I’ll kill ‘em all