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Cradle Of Filth : English Fire lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Cradle Of Filth lyrics : "English Fire"

Seven brides serve me seven sins
Seven seas writhe for me
From Orient gates to R’lyeh

Abydos to Thessaly
And Sirens sing from stern
But now I cease to play

For I yearn to return
To woodland ferns
Where Herne and his wild huntress lay


Now the tidal are turning
Spurning the darkness

The great purgations of distinguished tours
Are but stills in time
To the thrill that I’m

Once more
Heading to the bedding
Of her English shores


The wind bickered in Satanic mill sails
Eyes flickered in deep thickets of trees

And mists clung tight in panic to vales
When Brigantia spoke her soul to me


From Imbolg to Bealtaine
Lughnasadh to Samhain feasts
I heard her lament as season’s blent

Together a chimerical beast

Now the tidal are turning

Churning in darkness
The celebrations of extinguished wars
Are but stills in time

To the chill that climbs
Once more
Dreading the red weddings

On her English shores

Gone are the rustic summers of my youth

Cruel winter cut their sacred throats
With polished scythes that reap worldwide
Pitch black skies and forest smoke


And the hosts that I saw there
Drones of carrion law

Drove the ghosts of my forbears
To rove and rally once more


One of her sons from the vast far-flung
Come home to rebuild
The rampant line of the Leonine

Risen over pestilent fields

Now the tidal are turning

Burning in darkness
The salvation of her hungry sword
Shalt spill like wine

From the hills to chines
That pour
Spreading her beheadings

On these English shores

For the hosts that I saw there

Drones of carrion law
Drove the ghosts of my forbears
To rove and rally once more


This is a waking for England
From it’s reticent doze

This is a waking for England
Lest hope and glory are regarded as foes

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