Svartsot — Lindisfarne song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Lindisfarne" by Svartsot.
Lyrics
Ud for Northumbria den fagre ø la
For enden af ebbe-vejen, vandret af få
Kranset af vand, den kolde nordsø
Et kloster af sten der stod på den ø
Forvaret af bø lger, i fred at gøre bod
Munkenes sjæle var frelste, de troed
Rædslen for storme var gemt af veje
For hvem ville tro, at døden ku' sejle?
I det herrens år syvhundred' nititre
En mørk vinter morgen hyllet i sne
Skyerne spyed' torden og lyn
Og orme skreg, så grimt et syn
Tre snekker sås, af skåret stavn hver
Læssed' med stridsmænd, en hendningehær
Ført over havet i vindenes vold
Væbnet i læder, brynje og skjold
Uden et ord, de stormed' den strand
Ilden i hjertet lysted for strid
Guds mænd må slagtes, hver eneste mand
Danskerne kendte kun hæder og mod
Brødrene kendte kun barmhjertighed
Som bytte for ravnen de egned' sig mest
De elsked' deres frelser, de elsked' deres fred
Men hyrden så på mens flokken blev flået
Huden blev heven fra kød og fra ben
Skønt de havde deres herre, døde de alene
Ingen ku' måle sige med danskernes vrede
Døden de mødte i helligt højkor
Med sværdet til hjalten blev de gennemboret
Helgenblod gydtes på højaltrets dug
Hjemad de sejled' fra ran og slagtning
Hedningen, dansken, den stygge viking
Byttet var stort, og tabene små
Til de døde, de drak til de lå
De sang om deres ære, om gudernes gunst
De sang om den gode mjødbrygningskunst
I midgårds store sale de sang om deres dåd
I hjemlandets møer sæden blev såed
Vil verden nogensinde se dem igen
Der voldtog deres døtre og slagted' deres mænd
Stjal fra deres kirker og fyred' deres hjem
Det var en forsmag af, hvad der ville ske
Mange flere snekker var derefter set
Mange flere liv blev ladet i strid
Lindisfarne varsled' vikingetid
Lyrics translation
Off Northumbria the fair island of la
At the end of the ebb road, horizontally by few
The wreath of water, the cold North Sea
A monastery of stone standing on that island
Forewarned by Beeches, in peace to make amends
The souls of the monks were saved, they believed
The horror of storms was hidden by roads
For who would think that death could sail?
In the year of the Lord seventhundred'nititre
A dark winter morning shrouded in snow
The clouds spied ' Thunder and lightning
And worms screamed, so ugly a sight
Three snekker sås, of cut Rod each
Loaded with soldiers, a hen-Army
Carried across the sea in the violence of the winds
Armed in leather, breastplate and shield
Without a word, they stormed ' the beach
The fire in the heart littered with strife
The men of God must be slaughtered, every man
The Danes knew only honor and courage
The brothers knew only mercy
As a prey to the Raven they fit most
They loved 'their savior, they loved' their peace
But the shepherd watched as the flock was skinned
The skin was raised from flesh and from bone
Although they had their master, they died alone
No one could measure up to the wrath of the Danes
Death they met in Holy High choir
With the sword for the help they were pierced
Saint blood was spawned on the dew of the High Altar
They sailed home from the ran and slaughter
The heathen, the Dane, the bad viking
The spoils were big, and the losses were small
To the dead, they drank until they lay
They sang about their honor, about the favor of the gods
They sang about the good Mead brewing art
In Midgard's great halls they sang of their deed
In the mothers of the homeland the seed was sown
Will the world ever see them again
Who raped their daughters and slaughtered their husbands
Stole from their churches and fired their homes
It was a foretaste of what would happen
Many more snekker was then seen
Many more lives were charged in strife
Lindisfarne early ' Viking Age