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