Where one is ruled by the few freedom is but a dream How bright we burn, how fierce we gleam Bold the twinkle in the rogues eye Low and long the jackals cry. And howling fit for battle, berserk, may the fire rise. No tide to hold back the steady advance Under the cover of the nights quiet The fear of all tyrants command Blackguards march, never riot give us freedom, our forefathers glory. a homeland, or a wasteland. Fierce the scowl and fierce the laugh whos scorn could mock the devil. how transitory the power of the masons and their hammers, their sickles, and their level. Neither bribe, nor threat, nor deprivation. May turn the red right hand. Where one is ruled by the few freedom is the only dream beyond all tyrants command.