From the green fields of Ireland Comes a banished scholar Truth invaded his writing hand He claimed the sun was a star Condemned for heresy, condemned for liberty No walls could shelter him, the light of hope was dim Liberty he found with us Thrace is another's home, a dark and stoic man Raised in the culture of Rome War and raids were his ban He met with many races, he went to many places To the Vinland he once went, With his master's death he paid his rent He will make his name with us We are all exiled from our native lands We don't think of going back there We will conquer and live by our own hands We claim the Vinland as our own lair This land calls for our victory, prepare yourselves for discovery Unknown lands are dangerous, conquering is far from gracious The Vinland standard we shall raise The Vanir and Æsir we shall praise The old continent is is just memories so make yourselves at ease! In the heartland of Europe lived a honourable count His rankings were amongst the top His mighty castle up on a mount but pious he was not Some wanted him to rot Accused of heresy, he went away In the North he wanted to stay He will make his fief with us Grim fjords and dark skies built a ferocious man Christianity he denies, berserking he killed and ran Burning every church he saw, raiding the next abbey He had a taste for things raw His ship sailing to the next bay He will shed much blood with us