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