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• Artiste: Alasdair Roberts
• Titre: The Cruel War
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Before the cruel war was on, I was so strong. Now I am gaunt and drawn, now I am dying. And now the cruel war is on, she brings me a son, And I know some foreign one has been with her, lying. I know by his cradle cry, I know by his whine, I know by the black of his eye, he's no son of mine. Now the cruel war is on, I must be ready, Though there's no warlike bone in all my body. Though there's no warlike bone in all my body, Now the cruel war is on, I must be ready. Be ready, be ready, I must be ready. Now the cruel war is on, I must be ready. But how can I fell my foe with only an unstrung bow? How can the war be won as long as my blade's unswung? I'll give you the grip of my hand, I'll give you my word, He will come to his end on the end of your sword. I'll give you my grip and word, you will be ready. I'll give you my grip and word, you will be ready.