This oath bears heavy on us,
A relic of a troubled time.
But now is the time, for the dead trouble us no more,
Their bones long turned to dust, their graves forgotten.
My heart will brook this no longer, lest it give way for good.
The wind rattles the covers,
The hearth burns slow and sure,
As we wipe the dust, at long last,
From these withered yellow pages.
Come now, hear these sacred words uttered
For the first time in a generation.
Hear now, the first words
Of The Six.