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Sword Of The Vandea (Folkodia)

In the square of a humble village Laughter and shouts, faces aglow: It's 1793 in the fields of France, Every able man is taking up his arms... Soldiers loyal to the crown Barons alongside simple folk: Together are marching now Neath white lilies on their flag... The sacred heart is bleeding For those about to die... The sacred heart is torn From the cruelties of war... Soldiers loyal to the crown, Walk down the winding path Into battle, into war, to avenge Those who died under the guillotine... The cold wind of terror The murderers of the republic Cannot hold back the tide That flows from the rebel camp... Onwards for God! onwards for the King! Swords of the Vandea Never cease to cleave! Onwards for God! Onwards for the King! O! Blessed virgin help us save Our France from the malediction! In our hearts doth flourish now The flowers of victory: counterrevolution! Into the night we go, Into the darkness we leave: Brigands and Knights, Loyal to one Good and King!