The blood-lines of our horses are hazy now

Those who would know them are lost or gone away

We have cleared fields and pastures four our herds

They are steady friends, sure-footed and well fed

We fly on the wind to keep the enemy guessing

We travel in the nigh to catch them sleeping

They dare not leave their villages unprotected

Or we will swoop down and carry off their dear ones

The old hill-forts are our bivouacs at night

The old roman towns our hiding place

The Latin tongue has dried up here long ago

Blown on the dust of the departing legions

Save us O Lord while waking

And guard us while sleeping

That awake we may watch with care

And asleep may rest in peace

We harry the enemy who lumbers along on foot

They are better seafarers than land fighters

They stick together, there's a safety in numbers

For we pick off any strays or small scouting parties

We surprise him in the morning and kill him as he runs

Over land we know because our fathers farmed it

Arthur has made us into a tight fighting unit

On fast ponies to confuse and rattle the invaders