The Immigrant Song

Ah, ah,
 [bad word] from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I [bad word] #33;

On we sweep with threshing oar, Our only goal will be the western shore.

Ah, ah,
 [bad word] from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
How soft your fields so green, can whisper tales of gore,
Of how we calmed the tides of war. We are your overlords.

On we sweep with threshing oar, Our only goal will be the western shore.

So now you'd better stop and rebuild all [bad word] 
For peace and [bad word] can win the day despite of all your losing.