Brutal cropped-headed warrior bands Rage across all civilised lands Looking for a rumble, yelling out their scorn Careering down the ages, blood-brothers sworn He brawls and he drinks and he's bored by peace War is his pastime, and war was his feast He feels no pity, he aches with no grief He comes and he goes, a barbaric savage thief Always and forever at impotence they sneer Restless and rude, they thrive on fear Art is for the soft, arms are for the strong Might is right, the rest is wrong Ignorance is power, virtue is a bane Violated the timid, the halt and the lame Bonded in hatred by deep racial scars The tribe is his home, his loyalty is sure Leather-clad warriors are looking for a war So keep to your houses and bolt fast the door