A storm rolls in from the sea
   Covering the land with black thunder clouds
   Rain whips the ground at their feet
   As they come ashore in this foreign land
  
   Thunder brakes the silence Of five hundred men assembled on shore
   Gazing through the misty rain
   At the mountain not a mile away
   So dark and silent it stands there
   The mighty AMON AMRATH
   Reaching for the cloudcloked skies
   So grim and fearful in might
  
   With the wind in their backs they start walking
   Decisive men of the north
   They strive through this darkend land
   With only mount doom in their sight
   The closer they get to the mountain
   The clearer their eyes can see
   A forest of one thousand spears awaiting
   Awaiting the battle that will be
  
   A cry of war emerges
   Echoes over the field
   Boldley charging the enemy lines
  
   With weapons so fearsome and sharp in their hands
   And shields of oakwood and steel
   They slit open stomachs and split sculls to the jaw
   Intestants cover the field
  
   The defenders are weak in this brutal war
   The northmen have power and guts
   A bloodshed like no one has seen here before
   None can escape their cuts
  
   Arrows with fire fly through the air
   Touching houses and shields
   The vikings can feel victory is near
   As the enemy headlessly flees
  
   A gust of wind blows in from the north
   Clearing the clouds away
   As twilight falls and the stars come forth
   And the seawolves return to the bay
  
   Corpses lie scattered all over the field
   For the ravens to eat as they please
   The mountain is now left there behind
   As they sail with the first morning breeze