Текст песни Уткин - Варяжская

The wind will drag us to the saga - the old man gray-haired
And the sail will fill over the foamy water
And we leave our shores
For gold argue on enemy land
Heaven blue yes earth strip
A few words, yes salt on the lips

Again we laid our souls
Again, someone's sail looms in the distance
And our fights will take the fight again
The blades will ring over the lead water.
Hot fight, blood in hand
Screams "forward" and the death of the enemy

They took prey, our donkar donkey
But that’s not the goal - just the fun of the heat
Now direct your sails
To Celtic Ireland - oars on oars
Sea blue and gray wave
Measured blow, yes power in hands

Out of meat and nothing to drink
Well, nothing to do - we will chop
In the Saxon lands we will find food
We will only leave smoky haze to the frisons.
Fire Flames - The Village is Dead
Do we need trills? No, bye!

And again the sea plain is calling
And the wind - the tramp drives us forward
And we are waiting for new victories
We endure both the storm and the sunlight
Gray haze, cold haze
Black cliff, yes campfire light

Kneeling this damned world
In the Saxon lands only fear mister
We leave confidently on the shores
With contempt we look at the walls of the enemy
Signal to attack - shields are closed in a row
Nerves are pulled and arrows fly!

The fourth day the siege is on
Our jarl sends the squad forward
The Varangians on corpses entered that fortress
And many warriors of Valhalla found
Cold steel and an arrow in the chest
One call - ONE! ... and death

From the long hikes we will return home
In the villages of relatives, sweet winter peace
But another spring will come again
And hands touch the sword and the oars
The sky is wide, but the earth is a strip
A few words, but the blood on my lips ...