| We do not fear the long ships
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| We’ve seen long ships before
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| Men sailed here from the Northlands
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| And hauled their boats ashore
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| They brought with them their music
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| Their language and their lore
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| And they burned their boats and stayed here on the Islands
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| It’s midday in the wintertime
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| Before the moon goes pale
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| The winter songs are very long
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| The storm winds and the gales
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| The midnightsun’s as distant
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| As the calling of the whales
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| Till spring returns again to paint the Islands
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| The grey seals and the otter
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| The salmon and the char
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| The land locked and the sea trapped
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| The free birds in the air
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| The shepherd and the farmer
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| And all those in their care
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| Harmonize the music of the Islands
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| We never feared the long ships
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| Till the coming of the Braer
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| The roaring sea in anger threw
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| That broken boat ashore
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| Spilled fuel enough to take that ship
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| Twice round the world or more
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| Filled the air with oil to paint the Islands
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| As if the sea had realized
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| The tragedy in store
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| Its waves continued pounding
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| About a week or more
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| Most of the crude was washed away
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| And never came ashore
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| And the sea regained its temper round the Islands
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| So may this be a warning
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| To those whose faceless greed
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| Would sail close to our shoreline
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| To save both fuel and speed
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| The sea is our protector
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| Provider of our needs
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| And a jealous guard and keeper of these Islands |