Four thousand men
The mightiest warriors of Óðinn
Four thousand men
The mightiest warriors of Óðinn
Ready to brave the fiercest of foes
Illiterate farmers herding their cows
Silent they sail
On the swanlike mountains
Foul in their fury
The feeders of wolves
Eager to slay vikings again
Brithnoth hastily rallies his men
Marching onward while the world still slumbers
Replacing with valor what they lack in numbers
Alone on the coast
The oaks of England
Await, unwavering
Ere the waves of steel
Hi þær Fantan stream
Mid prasse bestodon
Eastseaxena ord
And se æschere
Ne mihte hyra ænig
Oþrum derian
Buton hwa þurh flanes flyht
Fyl gename
Wodon þa wælwulfas
For wætere ne murnon
Wicinga werod
West ofer Fantan
Biter wæs se beaduræs
Beornas feollon
On gehwæðere hand
Hyssas lagon
Fearful from shieldwall flee
Howling the hail of wounds
Smashing the ships of their souls
Bearing a blizzard of blood
Her lið ure ealdor
Eall forheawen god on greote
A mæg gnornian se ðe nu fram þisum wigplegan
Wendan þenceð
Ic eom frod feores
Fram ic ne wille, ac ic me be healfe
Minum hlaforde, be swa leofan men
Licgan þence
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