1692, the 29th of May

Sir "Tourville", the admiral, his fleet is on its way

He commands his ships to fight, they attack the british line

He must be caught in senseless pride, to him his honour's prime



His mighty flagship strong and brave, heading for the fight

It pets the british men to grave, cruising through the tide

The veil of night obscures the sea, the tables getting turned

Confusion rules, no chance to flee, his fleet is getting burned



Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death

Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath



Heat and fire, burning pyre

Smoke and flames, a raging hell

Death and blood, the fatal rub

Blows away "Soleil Royal"



Their position's getting intricate, heading for "Cherbourg"

Desperatly they dare their fate, they feel too much secured

Cannons fire round by round, the smell of acred smoke

Vibrating full from top to ground, shacken by its poke



Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death

Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath



Heat and fire, burning pyre

Smoke and flames, a raging hell

Death and blood, the fatal rub

Blows away "Soleil Royal"



To cape "Barfleur" they try to flee, the battle's raging hard

Balls of lead rushing the sea, hit the hull windward

The english-man hard on their trace, follow turn by turn

A heavy round, the coupe de grace, tearing up its stern



The powder in the storage room, litten by a spark

Bursting kegs, a giant boom, tear the decks apart

The blood spills of the scupperholes, the sea is turning red

No time to pray, no bell to toll, no burial for the dead



Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death

Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath



Heat and fire, burning pyre

Smoke and flames, a raging hell

Death and blood, the fatal rub

Blows away "Soleil Royal"

Heat and fire, burning pyre

Smoke and flames, a raging hell

Death and blood, the fatal rub

Blows away "Soleil Royal"