Upon the field
Blood is in the air
On this day
We shall see
Our enemies flee in despair
Their bodiesfall
As we swing our swords
Blood is everywhere
Death is coming
From the east
No osee will be spared
The land to the west
Where gold flows free
Ah there will be left
Are the flames of Lindisfarne
Dragon ships
From the north
A raging viking horde
Shall ascent
On our bornes
And bury them in smoke
Your weak god and foolish prayer
Will give nor peace or solace
At the edge of our blades
Your gods will answer with blood
The land to the west
Where gold tlows free
All there will be left
Are the flames of Lindisfarne
Women and thralls
Riches of gold
All ours to take
From the house of god
Church bell climes
As the run from the sight of us The block the halls
To hold us out
We bury them in flames
From the flames of Lindisfarne
Rich are we as kings
We will raid kill and steal
Till there is no more
The land to the west
Where gold flows free
All there will be left
Are the flames of Lindisfarne
Women and thralls
Riches of gold
All ours to take
From the house of god