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A long time ago they came from afar,

their purpose was to rule our land.

Twelve coward bastards who did rot our minds,

we shall stick the crosses up your asses.

Blót was forbidden, heiðra apparently forgotten,

but Fylgjur, they are always with us.

If we killed Jesus once we'll enjoy the rest of the times,

and when Valkyrjur come for us, we'll drink in Valhöll

from your skulls!

Archdioceses divided the land

but the Heathen fire

shall never be extinguished

and in those same flames

we’ll revenge,

each and every dead priest

is a point in man's honour favour.

Kill by steel and by steel you shall die

and we shall hand the blade.

You made a cross to punish,

you destroyed homes

to build big cities,

but the big white bull

shall murder the little lamb.

A sword full of anger

that shall forever reign,

thirsty of blood

his blade shall pierce you.

For every life you took

for every child you fooled,

there is a forging blade

there is an axe being sharpened.

You cannot dress Baldr with a thorn crown

you cannot make a business from everything known,

your disgusting existence, encourages us to be stronger,

and with pride we shall wield the sword

without fear to die,

and without fear to use it.

Betrayers eat unleavened bread.

"Inquirir e proceder

contra los infieles

e malos cristianos

et herejes, e contra

cualesquier personas

que falláredes estar

maculados de los

dichos crímenes de

infidelidad et herejía

et apostasía en todos

estos nuestros reynos

e señoríos, et en

cualesquier ciudades,

villas e lugares.

In nomine patris

et filii, et spiritus sancti

amen."

Rise to fight, my brothers, against

them who cut Donar's Oak,

we shall cut

their heads off.

A sword full of anger

to purify,

with their blood the Heathens

we shall be ironically 'baptised'.