A Pict Song

 

A Pict Song” by Emerald Rose from Fire in the Head

“Rome never looks
Where she treads
Always her heavy
Hooves fall

On our bellies, our hearts
And our heads
Rome never heeds
When we brawl

Her sentries pass
By and that is all
And we gather behind them
In hordes

And plot to reconquer
The Wall
With only our tongues
As our swords

We are the Little Folk
We
Too little
To love or to hate

Leave us alone
And you’ll see
How fast we can Drag down the State

We are the
Worm in the wood
We are the
Rot at the root

We are the
Taint in the blood
We are the
Thorn in the foot

Mistletoe
Killing an oak
Rats gnawing cables
In two

Moths making holes
In a cloak
How they must love
What they do

Yes and we
Little Folk too
We are as busy
As they

Working our works
Out of view
Watch, and
You’ll see it some day

We are the Little Folk
We
Too little
To love or to hate

Leave us alone
And you’ll see
How fast we can
Drag down the State

We are the
Worm in the wood
We are the
Rot at the root

We are the
Taint in the blood
We are the
Thorn in the foot

No indeed
We are not strong
But we know
Peoples who are

Yes, and we’ll guide
them along
To smash and
destroy you in War

We shall be slaves
just the same
when have we never been slaves
But you—you will die of the shame
And then we shall
Dance on your graves”

 

“An anthem for #Occupy” [via, et]