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(Page, Plant) |
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Ah~ah~ahhh-ah!. |
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Ah~ah~ahhh-ah!. |
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We come from the land of the ice and snow, |
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From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. |
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The hammer of the |
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Gods Will drive our ships to new lands |
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To fight the horde, and singing and crying: "Valhalla I am coming." |
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On we sweep with, with threshing oar. |
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Our only goal will be the western shore. |
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Ah~ah~ahhh-ah!. |
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Ah~ah~ahhh-ah!. |
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We come from the land of the ice and snow, |
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From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. |
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How soft your fields so green |
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Can whisper tales of gore, |
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Of how we calmed the tides of war. |
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We are your overlords. |
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On we sweep with threshing oar. |
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Our only goal will be the western shore. |
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So now you better stop |
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And rebuild all your ruins. |
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For peace and trust can win the day |
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Despite of all your losing. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ah hah hah hah hah hah. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ooh~ooh. Ooh~ooh. |
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Ooh~ooh. |
