Luyện nghe bài hát Highland Tyrant Attack

"You will my commands when cries never fade!"
"I grasp my in hand with stock, steel, and mace!"
"I clutch the soulless that stir the Ginder trees!"
"I extol beneath a wrathful, yet a constant eye!"

The last clash crown one son to the Pictish throne.
"My father's the king!" cries tyrant, aimed for bloodshed.
Three flags will fly the Esk and Dee rivers.
"The triumph's my king!" screams this baron son, for war.

Follow the tracks of this mailed (geared with pole-ax in his hand).
The blades from Hills are sharpened (cut for slaying and whetted to fight).
The child has his gallantry (he shall not abuse Teutonic codes).
He's spiked and sent in a frenzy (their king sits at his table).

"Far of these castle walls, I thought I heard your scream!"

This Is The Tyrant Attack!
They eradicate the feeble by Celtic law of tanistry.
Tyrant Attack!
The rank of the cnihthad is the for their enemies.
Tyrant Attack!
Garters on their arms are fastened for chivalry.
Tyrant Attack!
All of the vanquished battalions are into the corries.
Tyrant Attack!
They eradicate the feeble by Celtic law of tanistry.
Highland Attack!
The rank of the is the onslaught for their enemies.
Tyrant Attack!

"Our flags soared O'er the Esk and Dee rivers!"
"We, the cnihts, are for tier and not our lies!"

"Horse and Hattock took us back to the of Balkan Hills!"
"We, the cnihts, have formed the lines, the rites!"

"We'el pursue to on their pledge and curse them, as the light breaks!"
"...But is our king still at his table?"