Off the coast of Norway, we the crazy crew
History say we farmed and fished, foo
Can’t be more wrong: go ask England
What fear feels like, seeing our ships land
Rowby raiding is our way of life
Bringing strife where we go, yo, it’s insane
Dragon boats shipping pain, straight outta Skåne
While you prancing in the Scottish moors
Counting stars, we pillage villages
Glory to the god of war
Think my axe is for show? Bitch, gonna mow you like my turnip field
(We do farm for the land’s yield. Raiding’s sweet, but
Winter’s harsh and we got mouths to feed;
You gotta make the ends meet, yo)
Wrap you round my finger like a ring
Then let you sink, drowning in a bog
Send you running into hiding like I sent Nidhogg
Get off our turf, squirt, or we’ll explore a world of hurt
Heed the word, our warning sincere:
You ain’t no Jotun, but we are brave like the motherfucking Aesir

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