Sword Of The Vandea

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!