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Eins, zwei, drei, vier...

Sailing south to waters never seen

By western man of any creed

Searching for a place to be free

From Christian hate and blasphemy

Sky turns black as dark clouds form

Tempests blow the sails are torn

Come the waves in thunderous roar

Old Man Sea brings about his scorn

Underneath protection of Thor

Directed by a distant horn

Voyager makes way to shore

Sailing through the eye of the storm