Air, "War March of the Priests."

G. G. G. W— tson: Cheer up, Never mind. We all know it was very hard to swallow an insult along with one's own (?) bath water.

Do—o - n't be noisy!

The Sons of Oak
Saecular oak that is symbolic.
Of age: of might,
The sage: the fight,
The priests of the oak are we.

The Sons of Oak
In a community bucolic
We teach: we rule,
We preach: we fool,
Enshrouded in mystery.

Chief Druid:— And my intent
Omnes:— Let it be law
Chiel Druid:— And if a fool dissent
Omnes:— Bring him before—
Bring him before our justice by the altar smoke.

The Sons of Oak
Count it a most diverting, frolic
To hack: to slice
A sacrifice
To honour the Sacred tree.

The hour of sacrifice draws nigh,
The Druid chants his hymn of adoration;
The gods of Britain hear his cry
And hearken to the voice of supplication;
They watch the writhing victims die,
And breathe the altar's sacred exhalation.