The Lord has given

Me this land to possess, you

Scrawny rooster, you

Have squandered your great

Talents, have let your moment

Pass; your throne is lies.

Your fealty to

Faker cannot save you. Yield

Your territories.

They belong to me.

My mighty men have taken

Your citadel, and

Your guards are now dead.

You are sick, tired; I am

Sick of you. We now

Purify our land,

You shall be our sacrifice.

But I am gentle,

Rooster; permit I

Strangle you. Otherwise, must

You suffer the sword.

The blade will rend your

Most delicate places, and

Your agony will

Fill your palace as

Once your riches did. Choose now,

Your only mercy.