Years of famine and years of sigh
Reaps our land that fell from crest.
Creatures, serfs and men hanged high
What will ever please our Gods?
Gather the chiefs and sages.
What will save the tomorrow
Slay and sacrifice our king,
Coat the statues with noble blood.
Now neither your braves, your wise nor gold
Will be of aid now as the doomsday call.
Now you must rise up to show the steel
And soon you'll raise your horn in Valhalla's hall.