CHORUS 

Oh-ho, roll down below

I’ll see you again where the Black River flows,

The life of a man is the price of his land,

And Hector’s right hand lies blood red on the sand

So it’s roll down below.

So ten hundred ships to the Dardanelles go,
Strong men are pulling when the winds they don’t blow
And each bastard on board is a’sharpening their sword,
For the business of murder and plunder:
(For the business of murder and plunder).

Hear trumpeted calls from tall Illium walls,
Haul arse Trojan men ‘fore the blood starts to fall,
And they’d never suspect they’ve got ten long years left, of
Hell-fire and fury and thunder:
(Hell-fire and fury and thunder).

CHORUS

The sons of Priam try as hard as they can
To repel and expel each imperial hand,
And as every farm burns every murderer earns, his
Favour from a criminal king:
(Favour from a criminal king).

Each conquering soldier with dreams of growing older
Who’d hang up their spear as the plow they shoulder
If they make it back home cross Aegean-blue foam
Know not what the muses will sing:
(Know not what the muses will sing).

CHORUS

From Turkey to Timbuktu, Laos to Peru,
India, Australia, Palestine too,
Yes those without swords are still cut down by hordes
Made rabid for land and for glory:
(Made rabid for land and for glory).

Hear grief-stricken calls from tall Illium walls,
Our heroes are dead and it’s our time to fall,
And wherever you turn, there’ll be ash in the urn, for
It’s always the same bloody story,
(It’s always the same bloody story).

CHORUS x 2