The dragon ships move like lightning
The sails struck by the wind
Make the sound of thunder
Striking south from Northern lands
Rising upon the horizon
The sails strike fear
Into all who see this
Upon the shores
Waiting for the storm
To hit
The Norse are ready
To harvest their yield
The year passed has allowed
The Saxons to rebuild
The walls erected
A people formerly proud
Now quiver waiting
The Norsemen leave burning fields
Behind their harvest
