In the cold gray down, the first fires of the day are burning A prince has been born, ox snorts keep the grind stone churning A mazer of mead, so early on this eerie morning The fresh dung steams, the son of a king is quickly sworn in He will save the steward who takes a grote or shilling He will save us from the clergy and the priest The swordsman takes a bow, before he grabs the hilt and starts the killing There's sludge on his brow, a bold steel cut where the guts are spilling Eternal darkness you cannot see His presence is felt in a deep dark dream Eternal darkness how can this be The dark ages onward to eternity The crescent lamp is snuffed, a smoke plume rises from the oil A dead hand is touch the boar meat smells of rancid spoil A strange wind blows, a sack of half pence has gone missing The reeve holds his throat, through his fingers the blood is spilling What will save the steward who takes a grote or shilling What will save us from the clergy and the king The new king slides a note, under the door of the bishop's palace A dagger in the cloak, as the courtiers engage in royal malice Eternal darkness you cannot see His presence is felt in a deep dark dream Eternal darkness how can this be The dark ages onward to eternity