Sonreal's body lies a moldering in the grave,
While weep the sons of sanity whom he ventured all to save;
But tho he lost his ban while struggling 'gainst the knave,
His soul is marching on.
Sonreal was a hero, undaunted, true and brave,
And IOT knows his valor when he fought her rights to save;
Now, tho the ban grows long above his grave,
His soul is marching on.
He embargoed Romney, with his zero-two men so few,
And frightened PF till he trembled thru and thru;
The mods hung him for a traitor, they themselves the traitor crew,
But his soul is marching on.
The conflict that he heralded he looks from SonIOT to view,
On the army of the players with its flag red, black and blue.
And SonIOT shall ring with anthems oer the deed they mean to do,
For his soul is marching on.
Ye soldiers of Freedom, then strike, while strike ye may,
The death blow of oppression in a better time and way,
For the dawn of old Sonreal has brightened into day,
And his soul is marching on
