Kings march on repeat through our dreams,
Parading past, our proud patriarchs salute,
Our eyes to the sky we see the schooners roll across the seas,
Every dawn our hope remains,
To sail with our fathers in their legendary longboats,
And to trail behind the royal train,
We yearn to achieve even a fraction of their potency,
The grey bearded grandfathers who sit in sagacious state on our walls,
Adorned in heritage and history,
One days when our deeds are done,
We’ll earn our oars and sail across the dark waves,
Set course for the halls of our Father’s Sun