Gleaming shell of an autumn lie fable of right divine you gained your crowns by heritage but blood was the price of mine The throne that I won by blood and sweat by Perun, I will not sell for promise of valleys filled with gold or threat of the halls of hell When I was a fighting0man the kettle-drums they beat the people scattered gold dust before my horse's feet The way of the king But now I am a great king the people hound my track with poison in my wine-cup and dagger at my back The way of the king What do I know of cultured ways the gilt, the craft and the lie? I, who was born in a naked land and bred in the open sky The subtle tongue, the sophist guile they fail when the broadswords sing rush in and die, dogs, I was a man before I was a king