Holdt ned af en Tjørn (Original English version)

Held Down by a Thorn

Lyrics: Atkin

All men have come to fear it, the death with many names
Call it plague, or call it pestilence, it’ll have you just the same
As sure as any famine, or the thrust of any sword
In a week I will be gone, and at the mercy of the Lord

I am not a rich man, but I have all that I need
Pride is not a sin I have, and neither have I greed
I never drank a thousand ales, never fucked a thousand whores
Never conquered any trials, and now I’ve gone and got the sores

It started with the coughing, with the vomit soon to come
And it bore a ghastly redness as my insides were undone
God’s mark was left upon me, purple wounds beneath my skin
Internal organs putrefied and blackened from within

And the pricking of an arrow could I feel about by jaw
And the twitching of my muscles I’d no control of any more
The boils and the buboes beneath my arms and in my groin
Began to seep a stinking fluid there about my rotting loins

Burning from the fever
Stricken by malaise
There’s no salve or tincture
That may prolong my numbered days

Leave me, I am finished
With no chance of respite
My god fearing is ended
By an angel of the night

Buried with my brothers
Tossed into the ground
Taken like the others
When a cure was never found

Cursed just like my brothers
And dying just the same
The tender touch of women
Will I never know again

A grave they dug for all of us
And covered up as one
And hawthorn set upon our tomb
When all was said and done