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The Foul Deth of Engelond

by Sacred Son

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Full color gatefold jacket with lyrics and additional art. Black heavyweight vinyl, with vinyl specific mastering.

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    Professionally dubbed tape, with on-body tampography print and two sided J-card with full lyric sheet.

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    Screen printed on black Gildan Heavy Cotton shirts with premium eco friendly water-based ink for a soft feel, front two color print in white and yellow, and back yellow print. Designed by Dan Birds.

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Pestilence 01:24
Lord! Author of the Light Father, be our shepherd I beg, have mercy on us Serfdom Injustice endures I plough the field, harvest the corn For naught; no silver crossed my palm Toiling without recompense Until the worksmen succumb to pestilence Wealthy is he who shan’t serve Unless he receives the bounty he deserves Though a royal command was decreed The workers knew they had what landowners need Lower orders unite to compress Estates of society built to oppress Battles won Heavy is the cost That knights and landholders must pay Their bounties lost Unjust Make these farmhands pay For far too long they take the spoils This ends today But ’twas not enough and the crown is pitiful Too great a burden for a child’s shoulders to bear A country on its knees The king, a child, can do naught to redress Invasion from the North Tension fuelling rumours of mass violence Mutinous garrisons Arrears to pay, armies are deserting Proposals to levy villeins, rustics, ones of modest standing Unjust! The regent-elect A tyrant, an autocrat Peace secured in the north The Duke returns to the child King’s counsel Implicit treachery Leaders of men lost their jurisdiction Farcical governance A tax on those who can least incur it Landowners determined to shift the cost, the burden on to others Go forth and take from the hand of the strapped The day will come when we shall hold the whip Through the murk and stench of death the archdeacon appears Commands them to settle their debts and make good the arrears And thus the fuse had now been lit, the seeds were sewn, and soon there will be war Justice of the peace spoke thus with a forked tongue: ‘Now atone for these lies and hand over your debts’ Chaos, disorder spread like a fire Farm tools in their hands You’ll swear by their oath Nobles in their ranks Three heads on poles Heed the dire warning: The revolt is born!
Le Blakheth 09:51
How dissent has swept the lands Like a scourge; a plague of heresy No legions to halt the tide Outside rings the promise of vengeance The castle fell by nightfall The captives were freed and unshackled And swore the oath of loyalty To the cause of true moral justice: ‘Death to the sycophants We shan’t abide their servile deeds’ So they marched on Blackheath The air alive with frenzy, passion, turmoil, wrath The King true to his word granted counsel at sunrise Our quest is fulfilled Fervour and piety swelled through Blackheath On this hallowed feast day of Corpus Christi Rustics had risen and were determined to see the preacher deliver his sermon Bellowed he: ‘When Adam delved and Eve span’ The crowd replied ‘Who, then, was the gentleman?’ Serfdom had never been ordained by God And lords should be rightly uncovered as corruptors The great lords of the realm were mere weeds to be plucked out, cut down, trampled, burnt The Royal Barge approached and with it would come justice, freedom, mercy, hope Armed with rusting swords and bows old and worn The true commons kept to the oath they had sworn Their demands received with astonishment by the young King Back to the tower he went Incensed, the rebels had violence in mind To London they marched and with haste did they find The New Temple that they sacked and plundered Before carrying their blood lust towards their main prize Now the Duke whom the rebels had apportioned the blame Looked on as his beloved Savoy was engulfed in flame One pilferer caught with silver hidden up his sleeve Was thrown onto the fire - a lesson for would-be thieves From atop the tower the boy king watched on in pain Unbeknownst to him this was the turning point of his reign Now the counsel of the king were waiting at the door To petition this fearful child to bring about the conclusion of war Eighteen men Traitors Beheaded for their crimes Their houses burnt down The nobles watched, despaired This pardon from our King is a scorn Heads will roll!
The Boy King 08:50
Slay these villeins They are poorly armed and full of wine Overnight raid presents a gamble, a groundless risk The king met them again to hear them, their demands fair Granting their calls He then foolishly offered them more: Five heads on pikes! The crown feeble and depleted Powerless to halt the massacre Foreign men killed for no good reason Wealth provides no shield from the peril Five heads on pikes! Hallowed walls will grant no solace Word had spread of their vile intentions Capital would be burnt to the ground One bishop; the rest executed Dawn at Smithfield Home to mirth, bloodshed Now the king met the Kentish general His demands were the fantasy of a mad man An insult to the king The fatal blow dealt to the general The king lead the rebels far away He placed the general’s head on wretched display The rebellion reduced to embers Their resolve and will to fight died The king’s men made knights of the realm
These were sights ghastly to a king of fourteen Those men who rebelled dragged to the pillory The Plantagenet vindictiveness in effect Bishop of the East, take up arms, enforce peace ‘Keep, defend, protect’ Flemish widows exact vengeance Through the heartlands the bishop rides As the new era dawned of a hostile king Cruel obsessive vengeance swept through the land The revolt splintering Go seek out the king, Lobby for a pardon Manumission The Bishop of the East intercepted them Knew of their transgressions Nailed up their heads Then lead his meagre band towards his home town Bugles rang out, he seized his lance and charged King of the Commons was hung as a traitor Bowels removed and then burned Then beheaded His body in four parts sent across the land A severe lesson for would-be false kings His summer of blood ‘The truth I have divulg’d Now doom’d to expire for Shall survive, emanate, Will blaze with fine splendour’


‘And what can they show or what reason can they give, why they should be more masters than ourselves?’
- John Ball, 1381

Sacred Son return in 2022 with a new album, ‘The Foul Deth of Engelond’; a black metal chronicle of the 1381 Peasant’s Revolt. Weaving historical record with speculative inversion, the album recounts this fierce and tragic Great Uprising as a proto-revolutionary moment in English history that echoes loudly into our own toxic and fragmented present. The story is presented as inspiration and allegory, with principal songwriter, Dane Cross, describing it as his ode to righteous leftwing political violence.

‘The Foul Deth of Engelond’ marks a return to the expansive sound of their debut, whilst continuing the move away from the one-person insularity that began with the sophomore effort. The road-tested four-piece band was recorded in the cold dark winter of 2020 by tube-amp maestro Chris Fullard (Ulver, Sunn O)))), Boris) at the analogue-focused Holy Mountain Studios in London. These sessions were then mixed by Randall Dunn (Wolves in the Throne Room, Earth, Kayo Dot) at his Circular Ruin studio in NYC, resulting in a rich, physical, and enveloping sound of textural layered guitar, propulsive rhythms, caustic voices, and Dunn’s signature spirit-conjuring atmospheres.

’The Foul Deth of Engelond’ is initially released digitally and on CD, with a vinyl pre-order to follow, as resources - and the fallout of Britain’s pathetically cantankerous estrangement from our European brothers and sisters - allow.

‘DEATH! To the sycophants!’

To support the band directly and to save in any orders inside the UK, go to sacredson.bandcamp.com


released May 13, 2022

Dane Cross - Vocals, Bass, Synths
Mark Norgate - Guitars, Vocals
Stuart Gardham - Guitars
Jamie Tatnell - Drums
Artem Litovchenko - Cello
Tetiana Franchenko - Piano

Additional vocals on ‘Vengeance I & II’ by Jade Ellins

All songs written by Dane Cross

Recorded by Chris Fullard and Stanley Gravett at Holy Mountain Studios in Hackney, England
Mixed by Randall Dunn at Circular Ruin Studio in Brooklyn, New York City

Mastered by Adam Gonsalves at Telegraph Mastering in Portland, Oregon

Cover painting by Mitchell Nolte
Illustrations by Dan Birds


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