Horns Of Hattin - 1187 Lyrics
Forge aheadTo desert landsThe Kingdom's fateJerusalem is in our handsA steady strideTo barren plainsAround us rideDeath heralds from the SaracensTo the Horns of HattinGod's best men were sentTo expel their final breathFor the Holy LandArid plainsDreary menSearing heatKismet is at handThe True Cross highThe crowd proceedsTiberias nighSaladin's lure under siegeDusk draws nearThere's no retreatNo water hereThe Mamluks sense the Frank's defeat that nightLord 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 'roundThe King's red tentThe True Cross lostThe last 150 menFierce attacksDemise aboundThe King's tent fallsVictorious clamor all aroundAt the Horns of HattinThe Lord's best men were spentPerished for JerusalemBleeding their lamentNoblest KnightsOn their kneesTheir necks bentKismet is at hand