Riding hard, on a field of flame
God's knights, each to religion a slave,
Piously and angrily running through men,
While maiming poor Muslims, chanting amen.

God is their life, and death is their goal;
Destroy all heathens, burn them all whole.
Riding hard, on fields of blood;
Like biblical plagues, they come like a flood.

For God's wrath, they live and also god's might;
The evil pagans, with spears they shall smite
The holy word, they bring forth in the wild,
Sparing not pagans, neither elder, nor child.

To siege the infidels, and their unholy town;
To bring down the pasha, and his cursed crown,
Their justice isn't swift, and fair,
It is more to torture, and death, that they swear.

Gleaming in the blood filled lands, of the east;
Their white armors, make each one look like a beast.
Galloping hardly, through fields of death;
Their God is their oath, and each of their breath.

Their swords are bloodstained, and worn out;
Still they cut into Muslim flesh, without a doubt.
Regarded as holy, just and brave;
Their true nature, is that of a lunatics rave.

Religion, has made doubtful souls, just;
As the pope, does his wishes to them entrust.
To partake in the righteousness of the Lord;
And enforce it, with a bloody, worn out sword.