The Cruel War - Alasdair Roberts

Before the cruel war was on, I was so strong

Now I am gaunt and drawn, now I am dying

And now the cruel war is on, she brings me a son

And I know some foreign one has been with her, lying

I know by his cradle cry, I know by his whine

I know by the black of his eye, he’s no son of mine

Now the cruel war is on, I must be ready

Though there’s no warlike bone in all my body

Though there’s no warlike bone in all my body

Now the cruel war is on, I must be ready

Be ready, be ready, I must be ready

Now the cruel war is on, I must be ready

But how can I fell my foe with only an unstrung bow?

How can the war be won as long as my blade’s unswung?

I’ll give you the grip of my hand, I’ll give you my word

He will come to his end on the end of your sword

I’ll give you my grip and word, you will be ready

I’ll give you my grip and word, you will be ready