We were slaughtered by the foe with steel and speed
Driven across the steppe, Slav and Hun would meet
The golden fields of wheat unharvested and bold
We fought for our people, never for silver or gold
When the Hun moved west, we had lost but won
The Hun was unquenched, thrived upon killing sons
Driving the opponent from the golden fields
Death was their harvest, conquest the yield
They were not a people who would settle for less
Even the empire of Rome would fall, failing the test
