Ride, Lancers of the Christ O! Ride
Against the vengeful tide.
Ride through the meadow and green fields
Against the host of the enemy. 

We are in the middle of hell
That has cracked open like a shell
And war has come; the rivers shall run red 
When the victors stand in the field of the dead. 

Sing under your musky breath
As you face death and do not hide. 
Sing under your musky breath
As you fight with strength and might. 

Let the hooves of your stallion ring, 
Let your Silver lances sweetly sing, 
And cut into soft flesh and hard bones. 
Aye! Break their spirit against the stones. 

©Okunola Peace.