the essence of ashes

and it came to pass in those leaden days, that a plain, poor man got sick of his yoke of condemned soil, and a foreign empires hungry purse, time to replace the pitchfork with the sword, and sound the anthem of sheer rebellion, enough!, once too often!, enough is enough!, we strive not for war, we just crave to have our home, we just seek to have our rights, that our fathers used to have, but we tasted the grime and blood, we tasted the essence of ashes, a glowing spark, rising up from blazing flames, to lead the forlorn and the wroth, the epitome of hope and freedom, a daring venture, a frenetic attempt, when amandus was slain, the bagundae still sang