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The warren is empty tonight

Blood spills on toiled ground

Fur will hang in ragged clumps

Upon the hedgerows

Peace is lost to us now,

A fettered ideal! (x2)

They are the warmongers

And they will make our laws

A paw will fall upon the weak

They will mark the day

In death we make our charge, our last lament x2

To turn the tide, in our numbers;

The final will fall - they have our fear

We have the will

A battle cry will sound out

Shrill against the night

And with it our retribution;

The warren is empty! (x5)