The burning crops
And crows flying
In circles over the fields
The folk running swiftly
Into the forest in fear
Invaders chasing them
Riding hard upon them
Hard upon their heels
Moving quickly enough
To take down the weak
The old and very young
Falling upon the land
The slaughter is begun
The crows keep flying
For they’ve seen this before
The blood harvest continues
And then they seek more
It will never end
It never ends
For the men in armor
Who serve their god Thor
Return every year
Upon their ships
Return to harvest
Our crops, our treasures
Take slaves
And bring death
