Heathen Horde

Too many times has moon travelled across the sky
Since our fathers sailed out for glory and honour
It’s time to fulfil the vow once given
Forge your plows to swords, send the word
Raise an army countless as stars in the sky
All heathen hearts
Answer the call
God of thunder bless our swords
Our heathen horde
Will never fall
We are hungry for blood, steel and war
Filled with strength, valour, determination
Determined to conquer the land
There is no power
In their weak invocation
Puny invocations to their feeble god
Desecrate and drown it in their blood
Ósnjallr maðr
Hyggsk munu ey lifa
Ef hann við víg varask
En elli gefr
Honum engi frið
Þótt honum geirar gefi
Row!
Storm is getting near
Row!
I can see land ahead
No!
Show no mercy for the weak
Gold, land and women are ours to take so kill!
English translation of Old Norse poem:
«A coward believes he will ever live
If he keep him safe from strife:
But old age leaves him not long in peace
Though spears may spare his life.»