The Wine-Sacks Of The Emperor

They call us the Varangs -

Bearers of two-handed swords,

The pelekyfori with the dread axes:

The Emperor's wine-sacks!

Sons of the North we are -

Swedes and Danes, men of Norge:

The berserker-blood is strong within us -

It is a fire that only wine can quench...

We'll drink the empire dry,

We'll empty the cellar tonight

Raise a toast to thunder-Gods

In the shadow of Hagia Sofia!

Sons of the North we are -

Swedes and Danes, men of Norge:

The berserker-blood is strong within us -

It is a fire that only wine can quench...

We'll drink the empire dry,

We'll empty the cellar tonight

Raise a toast to thunder-Gods

In the shadow of Hagia Sofia!

Loyal to the end, the warrior elite:

We are the only thing that stands

Between hoary Death's icy hand

And the Emperor's diademed head!

We'll drink the empire dry,

We'll empty the cellar tonight

Raise a toast to thunder-Gods

In the shadow of Hagia Sofia!

Call us what you will, Easterlings:

We are rulers of the battlefield!

We strike like the hammer of Thor

And drink in wine the whole sea of Njord!