Torn and bloody our clothes they are

As we march home from a battle afar

Victorious we were, the raven's were with us

A glorious triumph was reached by dusk



We drink our mead in the light of the funeral pyre

Just as the flames, our cups are raised higher and higher

We drink to our brothers who in this battle have fallen

We hail thee, whom the god's have callen



Back in the village my woman awaits me

The fairest of women with a flaming desire

Her grace is to be seen by none but me

My scarred heart is burning like fire



Tonight is the night of viking's celebration

A celebration of our glorious victory

A victory that was surely not our first

And certainly not the last