Lirik Lagu English Fire - Cradle Of Filth
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Seven brides serve me seven sinsSeven seas writhe for meFrom Orient gates to R’lyehAbydos to ThessalyAnd Sirens sing from sternBut now I cease to playFor I yearn to returnTo woodland fernsWhere Herne and his wild huntress lay
Now the tidal are turningSpurning the darknessThe great purgations of distinguished toursAre but stills in timeTo the thrill that I’mOnce moreHeading to the beddingOf her English shores
The wind bickered in Satanic mill sailsEyes flickered in deep thickets of treesAnd mists clung tight in panic to valesWhen Brigantia spoke her soul to me
From Imbolg to BealtaineLughnasadh to Samhain feastsI heard her lament as season’s blentTogether a chimerical beast
Now the tidal are turningChurning in darknessThe celebrations of extinguished warsAre but stills in timeTo the chill that climbsOnce moreDreading the red weddingsOn her English shores
Gone are the rustic summers of my youthCruel winter cut their sacred throatsWith polished scythes that reap worldwidePitch black skies and forest smoke
And the hosts that I saw thereDrones of carrion lawDrove the ghosts of my forbearsTo rove and rally once more
One of her sons from the vast far-flungCome home to rebuildThe rampant line of the LeonineRisen over pestilent fields
Now the tidal are turningBurning in darknessThe salvation of her hungry swordShalt spill like wineFrom the hills to chinesThat pourSpreading her beheadingsOn these English shores
For the hosts that I saw thereDrones of carrion lawDrove the ghosts of my forbearsTo rove and rally once more
This is a waking for EnglandFrom it’s reticent dozeThis is a waking for EnglandLest hope and glory are regarded as foes
Now the tidal are turningSpurning the darknessThe great purgations of distinguished toursAre but stills in timeTo the thrill that I’mOnce moreHeading to the beddingOf her English shores
The wind bickered in Satanic mill sailsEyes flickered in deep thickets of treesAnd mists clung tight in panic to valesWhen Brigantia spoke her soul to me
From Imbolg to BealtaineLughnasadh to Samhain feastsI heard her lament as season’s blentTogether a chimerical beast
Now the tidal are turningChurning in darknessThe celebrations of extinguished warsAre but stills in timeTo the chill that climbsOnce moreDreading the red weddingsOn her English shores
Gone are the rustic summers of my youthCruel winter cut their sacred throatsWith polished scythes that reap worldwidePitch black skies and forest smoke
And the hosts that I saw thereDrones of carrion lawDrove the ghosts of my forbearsTo rove and rally once more
One of her sons from the vast far-flungCome home to rebuildThe rampant line of the LeonineRisen over pestilent fields
Now the tidal are turningBurning in darknessThe salvation of her hungry swordShalt spill like wineFrom the hills to chinesThat pourSpreading her beheadingsOn these English shores
For the hosts that I saw thereDrones of carrion lawDrove the ghosts of my forbearsTo rove and rally once more
This is a waking for EnglandFrom it’s reticent dozeThis is a waking for EnglandLest hope and glory are regarded as foes
