Swing the axe, light the fire,
(Can't call it a pyre til we build it higher!)
Swing the axe, swing it low,
(Cut down to the bone, leave but loam!)

Darkness' roots grow strong and deep,
(Get the shovel and spade, we'll dig their grave!)
We'll throw them on our burning heap,
(Fueled by the bones that Light couldn't save!)
Draw out the secrets that they keep,
(O'er their twisting lies, the truth we'll pave!)
Then send them to their eternal sleep.
(They'll fear to peep from Ugrach's cave!)

Swing the axe, light the fire,
(Can't call it a pyre til we build it higher!)
Swing the axe, swing it low,
(Cut down to the bone, leave but loam!)

Chaos warps all that it sees,
(We hoist Their banner to guide the way!)
Under fire light, chaotes shan't know peace,
(Blood-sworn blessed, we'll win the day!)
Excise the stain of Entropy's caprice,
(Cauterize the wound, make 'em pay!)
'til Creation's free from their disease,
('til Paradise comes, we keep them at bay!)

Swing the axe, light the fire,
(Can't call it a pyre til we build it higher!)
Swing the axe, swing it low,
(Cut down to the bone, leave but loam!)

Evil peddles paltry "truth",
(Words don't turn true the more they're said!)
Aimed at weak-willed fools and aimless youth,
(Those of soiled pants and empty head!)
Enemy to all just and couth,
(You'll be more of use when you are dead!)
We're armed to bear and red of tooth,
(Your ashes'll fertilize our flower bed!)

Swing the axe, light the fire,
(Can't call it a pyre til we build it higher!)
Swing the axe, swing it low,
(Cut down to the bone, leave but loam!)

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Scarlatan, in the year 1001 AF.