Heave the pick and cull the coal,
Dead man's horse and dead man's foal
Dead man's hoard and dead man's horde
Come to chase us to the ford!
With the coal we heat the lead,
Thus their armour turns to dread
And their steaming meat is bled
As we maim the dead!
Dead and dying, still we flee,
All we are, we'll always be
Still the fewer men we see
Fewer dead, and more be we.
On to Iron, on to Tooth,
Where the children's minds we soothe,
Where the dwarves retain the truth,
There we'll save our youth!