Wind blown ice beats at our doors
Cutting through the trees in winter's frozen battle
Seeking to strike us till we fall
Yet stand we shall & fear not its death rattle.
`Round the fire we shall seek our rest
And sing of kin gone & fallen
Wounds of battles now cleansed and dressed
Dreams of battle quietly come calling
As mead warms winter's cold breathe
We listen to the crystal song of the wind
For in truth it sings of spring's rebirth
And soon shall we see our far and distant kin
So sharpen your sword and polish the helm
For Soon the ice shall make its silent retreat
We shall set to sea and road for foreign lands
And on the fields of honor distant foes shall meet.