| November mist, a silent nighte*
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| Starv’d to deathe I awaite the fighte
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| The sounde of hooves in the breake of dawne
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| The calme before the storme
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| The drums asound, hear the horns atone
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| To sounde the charge on this icy morne
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| Oute of the crowde a knighte cometh forthe
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| The Lion of the northe
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| White lightning, gunpowder in the air
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| Salvation, desir’d across the lande
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| We came, we foughte withe the Lion of the northe
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| On Streiff he was riding aheade
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| We stand, we fighte withe the Lion of the northe
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| The saviour from up highe above hath come
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| He rode along all his rows of men
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| Up highe on Streiff, saluting them
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| The Lion spoke and we swore to fighte
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| On these frozen fieldes we’d die
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| He turn’d his face to the foes that day
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| Throughe the dwindling mist he had pav’d his way
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| He rais’d his sworde to attacke the hordes
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| Oh the Lion of the northe
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| White lightning, gunpowder in the air
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| Salvation, the cry throughoute the lande
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| We came, we foughte withe the Lion of the northe
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| On Streiff he was riding aheade
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| We stand, we fighte withe the Lion of the northe
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| The saviour from up highe above hath come
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| Erblicket, ett lejon! |
| I rimfrost han ridar fram
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| Och han draer sitt vapen, sveas konung det är han
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| Han hälsar sina mannar och på Streiff mot fienden
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| Ett lejon från höga nord, ska äras på vår jord
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| Erblicket, ett lejon! |
| I rimfrost han ridar fram
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| Och han draer sitt vapen, sveas konung det är han
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| Han hälsar sina mannar och på Streiff mot fienden
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| Ett lejon, son från norden, vi han ska ära på vår jord |