Brutal cropped-headed warrior bands
Rage across all civilised lands
Looking for a rumble, yelling out their scorn
Careering down the ages, blood-brothers sworn
He brawls and he drinks and he's bored by peace
War is his pastime, and war was his feast
He feels no pity, he aches with no grief
He comes and he goes, a barbaric savage thief

Always and forever at impotence they sneer
Restless and rude, they thrive on fear

Art is for the soft, arms are for the strong
Might is right, the rest is wrong
Ignorance is power, virtue is a bane
Violated the timid, the halt and the lame
Bonded in hatred by deep racial scars
The tribe is his home, his loyalty is sure
Leather-clad warriors are looking for a war
So keep to your houses and bolt fast the door