Ah, ah, We come from the land of the ice and snow, the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. of the gods will drive our ships to new land, To fight horde, sing and cry: Valhalla, I am coming!
On we sweep with threshing oar, Our only goal will the western shore.
Ah, ah, come from the land of the ice and snow, the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. How soft fields so green, can whisper tales of gore, Of how we calmed the tides of war. We are young overlords.
On we sweep threshing oar, Our goal will be the western shore.
So now you'd better stop and all your ruins, For peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing.