1187 Lyrics

Horns Of Hattin 1187

Forge ahead
To desert lands
The Kingdom's fate
Jerusalem is in our hands

A steady stride
To barren plains
Around us ride
Death heralds from the Saracens

To the Horns of Hattin
God's best men were sent
To expel their final breath
For the Holy Land

Arid plains
Dreary men
Searing heat
Kismet is at hand

The True Cross high
The crowd proceeds
Tiberias nigh
Saladin's lure under siege

Dusk draws near
There's no retreat
No water here
The Mamluks sense the Frank's defeat that night

Lord God. The battle is over! We are nothing but dead men, and the Kingdom is finished! '

As night fell on the frankish encampment, the only relief brought onto the Crusader army was a short rest from the relentless heat. Cut off from water resources, they listened to the Muslim warriors spurring each other all night, from anxiety to confidence of victory. In the morning of July 4th, 1187, thousands of dispirited christian men set to rise together with the burning sun.

Gathered 'round
The King's red tent
The True Cross lost
The last 150 men

Fierce attacks
Demise abound
The King's tent falls
Victorious clamor all around

At the Horns of Hattin
The Lord's best men were spent
Perished for Jerusalem
Bleeding their lament

Noblest Knights
On their knees
Their necks bent
Kismet is at hand