Worms of the Earth - by Clam Chowder

My father worked on the land, as did his father before him,
Plowing and sowing by hand, and harvesting what the land bore him,
He was killed by the robbers before I was ten,
One stroke of the sword and then they were gone,
While our lord strutted bravely on top his tall walls,
And did nothing to hinder the slaughter.

For we are the worms of the earth,
Against the lions of might,
All of our days we are tied to the land,
While they hunt and they feast and they fight,
We give our crops, our homes, and our lives,
And the clerics tell us this is right,
And they've beat us before and they'll beat us again,
But we'll drink from their helmets tonight!

Our lord rode away to the wars,
Mounted on top a tall stallion,
To fight for some noble cause,
With his knights there and henchmen to guard him,
Then we heard that they captured both he and his men,
And for that they raised our taxes again,
For to pay the great ransom in gold and in gems,
To get our lord back to rule us.

For we are the worms of the earth,
Against the lions of might,
All of our days we are tied to the land,
While they hunt and they feast and they fight,
We give our crops, our homes, and our lives,
And the clerics tell us this is right,
And they've beat us before and they'll beat us again,
But we'll drink from their helmets tonight!

This year there was a great drought,
Our crops were burnt in the ground,
Not that our lord did without,
For his men took all that they found,
Then our lord came among us with some of his men,
To announce that the taxes were raised yet again,
So a few of us acted on our desperate plan,
Now his body is meat for the crows.

Into the fire we stare,
Behind our poor barricade,
To tired to feel the despair,
Knowing no one will come to our aid,
For when that sun rises the knights all around,
They will gather in force and hunt us all down,
They'll mount our heads proudly on pikes in the town,
And our final tax will be paid.

For we are the worms of the earth,
Against the lions of might,
All of our days we are tied to the land,
While they hunt and they feast and they fight,
We give our crops, our homes, and our lives,
And the clerics tell us this is right,
And they've beat us before and they'll kill us tomorrow,
But we'll drink from their helmets tonight!