We're All In Cahoots.

Thunder and bright lights, kings pure and dark
In Scotland, by the moor
A woman with bloodstains all through her hair
In Scotland, by the moor
Though horrid and dreary it may be
And afterwards, oh, I am sore
It's here I've sought refuge
In joy, from the deluge
In Scotland
By the moor

Taxing these ordeals
And repetitions
They may be
From other duties
I'd prefer, these ordeals
Unto me

Three slimy witches that swirl in the fog
Come down here to the moor
One brings a banshee, another great joy
Descending on the moor
With a cackle of prophetic doom-speak
The eldritch world's foresight-ful lore
This horror revives me
From toil, and I'm free
In Scotland
By the moor

Another land, cold as all Hell here plays host
To Scotland and the moor
Inviting this danger into your home
This Scotland and the moor
If they catch you, dear, you would regret it
Hear terror crashing through the door
But we all protect you
From those who'd inspect you
Our Scotland
And the moor

Words in words
Deliver us
Poetic ecstasy
Despite our battered
Bodies, minds
From other things we flee

Strong now together, through horrible weather
Not Scotland, or the moor
Play on my brothers that we might see sunlight
For our country, here once more
And it's strange that I would solace
In these foreigners' struggle and chore
But Macbeth and his kin will
Fight with you to standstill
From Scotland
By the moor