Hans Siste Vinter

A man went to make a fire
If the heart burned, his soul was wild
In a battle where father was forgotten
It was his long, cold, last winter

A warrior great with a hardened mind
Into the misty valley he was led
From his Aryan palace
It was his last, long, cold, last winter

White Christ and Jew are now celebrating
They believe that Odin will perish
But the battle has now begun
It is his first honorable victory