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In the lands where winter is king, |
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Where deep forests primeval still |
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Crown brooding mountain-peaks, |
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There reign as lords the sons of the North! |
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The Viking blood is strong in them, |
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They descend from a race feared by men - |
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Their Drakkars are seen ploughing the sea, |
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Their swords are carved with runes of doom! |
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When the skies seem pregnant with storm, |
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When the church bells sounds the alarm, |
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Pray for your life to your false God - |
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For here come the mighty sons of the North! |
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Where there's a fight, |
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In land or at sea, |
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The sons of the North |
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Are eager to plunge |
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Into the fray's very midst! |
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Berserker rage taking control: |
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Their eyes go wild, they snarl like beasts, |
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Fear befalls all their enemies! |
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They clash their swords against their shields, |
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They sing a song of blood and war, |
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They're ready to kill in the name of Thor! |
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The Viking blood is strong in them, |
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They descend from a race feared by men - |
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Their Drakkars are seen ploughing the sea, |
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Their swords are carved with runes of doom! |
