Текст (слова) песни: Ancient Rites - Mother Europe
Oh remember the proud Hellenic civilisation The cradle of Europe where it all began Or the Portuguese and Spanish Armada Overwhelming Thy power, a tribute to the south
Bruges, Antwerp, Ghent forever in my heart Representing medieval Flemish pride Brave Teutonic, French and English knights Thy shining armour now long vanished Thy glory, however, forever remains Praised be the Scandinavian hordes Once the nightmare of the Christian world
I talk of not of mercy I talk not of fear The hopeless warriors of a Willing Doom
Children of Italia In ancient times "Roma Caput Mundi" De Verenigde Nederlanden, parel van het noorden Belgium and The Netherlands stood as one
Mother Europe born from your womb Mother Europe on Your soil shall be my tomb
I talk of not of mercy I talk not of fear The hopeless warriors of a Willing Doom Oh what that gallant spirit shall resume Leap from Europe`s bank and call Thee from the tomb
(Hail to the sons of eastern Europe the Slavonian soul never fades) Blessed are Scotland, Ireland and Bretagne Where the Celtic dream still lives on
Shall be my tomb!
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