At a tourney in Frankia
Innocent, Bishop of Rome
Flemish knights and second sons
Had convinced to leave their homes
Promising Jerusalem
And salvation for their souls
If they'd travel to Egypt
To loosen the Sultan's hold
But the Pope did not have the gold
The army gathered in Venice
Unable to pay the Doge
The promised amount of silver
To carry them across the flow
So they struck a new bargain
That'd weight heavy on their souls
To cross over to Zara
And take back the riches it holds
Behold your gold
Has turned to lead
Your Silver
Now rusted
Withdrew your hand
From the plough
You should hasten
To Jerusalem
You stained your soul
With Christian blood
You leave me no choice
Excommunicado!
Flags with crosses on the walls
Offered no protection
As they sailed through the chains and crumbled the gates
They made the city their own
Plunder all of its wealth
Then fought themselves over sharing the spoils
Then sometime over winter
Far away from Byzantium
Came a noble visitor
Who offered a lofty sum
For help restoring his father
The blinded man, to Imperium
In return the Emperor
Would help the crusade carry on
And so it was agreed
To march on Constantinople
And all was forgiven