At Rencesvals they gathered, the rear guard
Charged to protect the king
Twenty-thousand feeling no dread of d**h
A treachery revealed, ambushed by the Pagan army
Four hundred thousand numbered the Saracen horde
Honor-bound they stand forth, Sword held high
Roland spurs them to war
Die in glory or join cowards in Hell
And though their d**h is sealed, Roland sounds his mighty call
The king will avenge what the Pagans have wrought
Oh hear my cry! With Durendal I fight!
And when I die, with Durendal I'll lie
Oh hear my cry! With Durendal I fight!
And when I die, with Durendal I'll lie
I will never go back, never retreat, rather that I meet d**h
I will never go back, never retreat, even unto my d**h