Brave and Few

The banner rising forth catching windy gust and gale.
Rising forth from deepest ashes, from the broken dusty pale. 
Rising banner full of might, all thought to be destroyed.
All thought was bruised and broken though from ashes it will rise.
It will rise, it will rise! though by a thousand holes is filled.
It will stand, it will stand,
Though the tears had been instilled 
It will come, it will come! Held by the brave and few. This rising rusty banner, which is brought to war anew. 
It will lead it will lead, though by war was left behind,  the broken flag of victory above shall be enshrined!
It will wave, it will wave! 
It will catch the whirring gale. 
That the tattered cloth so sorely beat, from loss it shall prevail.
It will Triumph, it will Triumph! Though none thought this could be. That the battle proven victors shall lie in sure defeat.
It will Reign, it will Reign! With a vibrant purple Hugh.
It shall rise again to battle, 
carried by the brave and few.