My motherland was pleading again for mercy,
the British were cruel and bloodthirsty,
they ordered to choose the road of compliance,
I selected the path of painful defiance. ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.