Orders In Hand

To join the martyrs hall

To stand proud and tall

With my orders in hand

To drive the invader from my land

Suits of plate mail adorn my frame

The title of defender in my name

The eagle banner flies in the wind

Lances lowered to tear and rend

The marshal blows his horn

And a charge is soon born

Thundering across the snowy plain

Horns on my helm

We hail from a more savage realm

For Christ we bleed and fight

Such is the way of a holy knight

Black crosses on white fields

Next to the eagle and shield

We never forget the Fatherland

As we push lance in hand

Death held in a gauntleted fist

The heathen surprised as we emerge from the mist

Like a scythe through wheat

Our lances puncture crude armor into the soft meat

Skewered on our lances they die

Our presence heralded by the arrows that blacken the sky

The pagan tries to run

But we are far from done

Riding on blades descending into their backs

Horned knights slash and hack

Blood running in the snow

Pale riders with Hell in tow