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• Artiste: Horns Of Hattin
• Titre: 1187
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Forge ahead To desert lands The Kingdom’s fate Jerusalem is in our hands A steady stride to barren plains around us ride Death heralds from the Saracens To the Horns of Hattin God’s best men were sent To expel their final breath for the Holy Land Arid plains dreary men searing heat Kismet is at hand The True Cross high The crowd proceeds Tiberias nigh Saladin’s lure under siege Dusk draws near there’s no retreat no water here the Mamluks sense the Frank’s defeat – that night “Lord God. The battle is over! We are nothing but dead men, and the Kingdom is finished!” As night fell on the frankish encampment, the only relief brought onto the Crusader army was a short rest from the relentless heat. Cut off from water resources, they listened to the Muslim warriors spurring each other all night, from anxiety to confidence of victory. In the morning of July 4th, 1187, thousands of dispirited christian men set to rise together with the burning sun. Gathered ‘round The King’s red tent the True Cross lost the last 150 men Fierce attacks demise abound the King’s tent falls victorious clamor all around At the Horns of Hattin The Lord’s best men were spent perished for Jerusalem bleeding their lament Noblest Knights on their knees their necks bent Kismet is at hand