The air is thick with moisture on these greener pastures We’ve marched for weeks and now our food’s almost depleted
Raining, cleansing waters fall on me

Hail! Hail our pageantry, welcome us as friends Please support the march by feeding our men Bring your Baron here to stand before the Count Let the people gather all around

He told the Priest where all the Jews did live and frequent And then we sought them out to take from them our payment
Raining, screaming, gnashing jaws of anguish

Tears!
Screaming children weep, sitting in the mud Watch their parents mocked and beaten Help!
Crying out for help, yet I still partake Ignoring the pleas from the ancient pariah

Raining gold on muddy cobblestone Raining gold
I feel ashamed - this ransom burns

Raining gold coins, trying to buy themselves some time

Girls on the second floor throwing down their gold Trying to distract our comrades
Priest of the Hermit’s men now is telling them That they may as well convert or die