From the heavens, gaze the ravens,
they caw over the grey weathered land.
There they see how it's people awake.
We follow the signs and clench sword in hand.
The foe shall hear how our folk for battle cries,
While our throats, sound the songs,
who sing of ancestors' wisdom and might.
The coward-foe shall fear our wrath,
We'll fight for victory or until we fall,
To enter the waiting halls.
Now we carve runes in our blades,
for profit and battle-luck.
Soon empowered and stained by red.
Unending our fury our valour is gold!
For ages to come our names will be told!
Unchain your spirit, to the battle we charge,
Rush from the hills and sweep foe aside!
-
The tribes have come to stand together!
Old rivals bound by blood,
Now the oath has been sworn,
of heroism and brotherhood!
-
Hoy! -
warriors stay together, forge the battlebonds,
now the time has come to show your heart,
Keep the shields, closely locked together,
As we rush forwards in the gap,
Surrounded by screams, a hail of arrows,
blinding the hatred that burns in our minds,
Oh how we love, the call of battle!
Even as already, many left this life!
The northern men will be victorious!
By axe or spear or sacred sword!
Stabbing through armor, into necks,
Or pummeling, till the break of bones
-
Our might, displayed at the sound
of the warhorns, with weapons bared,
Now trampled, many lie on the ground.
Eyes to the weeping sky, with empty stares,
With our rage, we've sown death and decay,
To keep what is ours for a while longer,
With smiles and cheers, we take in the sweet air,
Thinking of what may yet in life, lie beyond.
