In a field full of briars
And they won't call me mother By the strenght of my life I will burn with a light of my own
The sword of Saint Michael The blood of Saint George That falls from the scourge
And they won't call me mother By the strenght of my life I will burn with a light of my own
I fight where God tells me I kill without consequence Like grain from the straw
And they won't call me mother By the strenght of my life I will burn with a light of my own