Lyrics: Daniel Rustage/Gregory Holgate/Mark Nichols/Connor Gerrard
Music: Daniel Rustage
Yeah
Hear the, hm, trumpets and the call to arms
One strike of the mornin' star
First knight of the nation, I'm pullin' maidens, they see my courtly dance
My men do it back to back to back to back home, or at war in France
They stare in amazement, blood in the paintings, scars like an autograph, ayy
They got ahead, but I severed it
Barely a squire, they don't know the etiquette, ayy
Do it a hundred like Henry V, this is my kingdom, I feel the adrenaline, ayy
Move with a motion, chief of devotion, see my crusadin', I'm murderin' heretics
They act like royalty, can't pull a wench, so they sleep with their relatives
It's the turn of the bear, Sir Badi, the biggest
The pink emblazoned on tabards, my banners scatter the kingdoms
If I'm movin' with retinue, know we march with the quickness
I'm always the first in battle, my armour hardened and fitted
Armed to the teeth, polearm and longsword equippin'
Formation stacked, shield on my back, so it's harder to hit him
We run 'em down or grab the quivers, 'cause carnage at distance
So, bring the longbowmen in packs, that's just the mark of the British, innit
We got names in lights, so decorated
Check it, every letter is illuminated
Leaf through pages and you'll see
Camelot, it hasn't got a thing on me
They see us ridin' like (Ayy, ayy )
They heard the fables, and watch us fightin' like (Ayy, ayy )
We tip the scales, we so inspirin' like (Ayy, ayy )
The holy grail
The legend of the mics of the round table
Hey, hey, hey, hey
The legend of the mics of the round table
Hey, hey, hey, hey
The legend of the mics of the round table
Curtains rise, blur of the lights
Can observe this might for a church's tithe
First in line to the chair of the highness
Certified sir, swear on my life
Got a serpentine-like curve to the bites
Not cursive I write, it's a curse and a blight
They should persecute I, they should burn me alive
Just a word to the wise from the Merlin-type
Wizard with a pen, wicked in the west
Army comin' at us, is it Byzantine again?
Chivalry is dead
Only because givin' to the poor from the rich is a criminal offence
Illy, I'ma spread dysentery and death
Still sicker in the head, so listen what I said
Swingin' at ya neck with a blade, only way that I'd ever say I'm givin' you the edge
Hear the pounding of drums, the sound of the horns, and fall back
Your flag's tattered, I'm galloping in on horseback
Swords clash, gallant and valiant, push the hoards back
Thud of dropping bodies in the sod, my support act
Lore's stacked, riffle through that dictionary to chivalry
It pictures me in victory amidst your finished infantry
Anachronism's natural, listen
Fact that book's not written, means
That now we're spinning records that will make recorded history
We got names in lights, so decorated
Check it, every letter is illuminated
Leaf through pages and you'll see
Camelot, it hasn't got a thing on me
They see us ridin' like (Ayy, ayy )
They heard the fables, and watch us fightin' like (Ayy, ayy )
We tip the scales, we so inspirin' like (Ayy, ayy )
The holy grail
The legend of the mics of the round table
Hey, hey, hey, hey
The legend of the mics of the round table
Hey, hey, hey, hey
The legend of the mics of the round table