Текст песни
We grew where the western winds complain
On stone and heather in mist and rain
No silken halls no golden chain
Just yew and string and iron strain
They call us low they call us small
Yet knights ride proud and then they fall
A storm of ash before their wall
We loose as one we loose for all
Draw to the ear let England see
The bow is stronger than chivalry
From Welsh black hills to fields in flame
Our arrows speak we sign no name
At Crécy’s dawn the sky turned black
Not clouds but shafts in ordered rack
Through mail and crest they found the crack
And sent the gilded riders back
At Agincourt in choking clay
We watched the proud sink down and pray
Mud took the rest we did not slay
The bow had had its final say
Draw to the ear stand fast stand free
No lord owns death more sure than we
We are the string in history’s hand
The rain of yew that broke the land
In rain we stand in rain we fall
The bow outlives the crown and hall
No golden spurs no bright renown
Just yew and earth and broken crown
