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"