Jag slipar mitt svärd, jag oljar min brynja
Flätar mitt skägg och tjärar mitt tryne
Solen sjunker och skyn färgas röd
Blod skall drickas. Blod skall drickas inatt

Nattulv ska jag rida till kyrkofolkets port
Därhän ska jag dra mitt svärd, slå ner var man
Månen lyser upp mitt mörka land
Och Blod skall drickas. Blod skall drickas inatt

Svärdet sliter en strupe opp,
I snön ligger än en kropp.
Nattulv biter ett huvud loss,
Blodet rinner som en fors.

Prästdräpe vid min sida nattulv ska jag rida
och blod skall drickas inatt

[A mighty troll warrior sharpens his sword. He prepares his armour, binds his beard and tars his face. As the sun sets, he rides a giant wolf to the crusaders fortress. He slays the wrong-believers and feasts on their blood.]

[English translation:]

[Blood Night]

I sharpen my sword, I oil my armour
Plait my beard and tar my snout
The sun sets and skies turn red
Blood shall flow. Blood shall flow tonight

A nightwolf shall I ride into fortress of Christians
That far shall I draw my sword, stricken down are men
The moon rises upon my blackened land
And blood shall flow. Blood shall flow tonight

The sword slices throats
Yet in the snow lies corpses
Nightwolf bites the heads off
Blood runs like a rapids

Into priestslaughter with my nightwolf shall I ride
and blood shall flow tonight

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