| Yet once more let us look upon the North Sea
|
| Behold the lands, where our folk and kin roamed free
|
| Ancient echoes from distant valleys, where once afar
|
| Elder cults practised in sacred woods, pagan fires under many a star
|
| Ethics of valour, codes of ancient pride
|
| Now long gone, the archaic Gods in hide
|
| Fled seem to have the olden souls too
|
| But if one listens carefully, they might reach through
|
| For if one has an olden spirit, a centuries-old hart
|
| Forgotten chants might echo, hear th ancient bard
|
| Scaldic poetry of runes, of victory and defeat
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| Vague sounds of song, an ancient heartbeat
|
| Avondland, in het hart gebrand
|
| Oud Germanenland
|
| Alas the ancients faded, centuries shred a cloud
|
| Over what once was, the songs no longer loud
|
| Avondland, in het hart gebrand
|
| Ziel verbrand, oud Germanenland
|
| Life is no fairy tale, survival of the fittest, true
|
| Blood, sweat and tears, battles to pull through
|
| Ethics of valour, codes of ancient pride
|
| Now long gone, the archaic Gods in hide
|
| Fled seem to have the olden souls too
|
| But if one listens carefully, they might reach through
|
| Life no fairy tale, survival of the fittest, true
|
| Blood, sweat and tears, battles to pull through
|
| But if not for our forefathers there would be none of us
|
| Passed on the torch, to the ancients loyalty thus
|
| Avondland! |
| Frankenland!
|
| Avondland! |
| Frankenland! |