Born in the fires of England.
From humble birth I come,
Bound to poplar by pitch and sinew
Together we become one.
Across the treacherous sea I travelled,
This land seems so far away
To fields of Agincourt
To face to face the judgement day.
Banded together our fellow archers stood
Humble at sight of the crown.
Let me fly with my band of brothers
To rain our terror down.
The battle was short and deadly
Won by humble men with bow.
The bloody ground so thick with feathers
Looked like a covering of snow.