The Dead South - ’The Dead South’

Oh pass the rum on down the line it’s getting pretty cold It’s been nine straight days of hell and burnin’ fires in the snow And I haven’t seen my baby since that old black ship set sail Still we’re holding out ’till winter dies and hoping our strength prevails The full moon peaks around the clouds as the grey wolves cry The hour’s getting late and we’ve drunk every bottle dry Just one more march from dusk ’till dawn ’till we finally arrive At the gates of those who long ago burned our houses and took our lives And we’ll sing “We are the Dead South who sailed across the sea, to take back our lives and leave this land of misery Our will is our weapon our hearts forever bound Come on now tilt your bottle back and lets go grab another round The wind is at our backs the ground is shaking at our feet Charging for the gates we pray the lord my soul to keep For if we ever get ourselves out from this mess alive