A marching song of the Stormcloacks

Far east of our beloved homeland it lies,

the home of our last hope against false laws.

In thunder donned, in dragon language versed,

grand Ulfric, King of Jarls, by Shor is blessed.

/

Move out fair girl, your husband slain by him.

You’ll cease to throw yourself at Elenwen.

Your sad plans to yourself preserve are grim,

will accompany old Solitude our brethren.

/

Far east of our beloved homeland it lies,

the home of our last hope against false laws.

In thunder donned, in dragon language versed,

grand Ulfric, King of Jarls, by Shor is blessed.

/

The silver petty jarl contends with plague

we’ll have to get it gone once again, this mess.

The forsworn first and then the Jarl is next.

Their silver will make crowns of greater weight.

/

Far east of our beloved homeland it lies,

the home of our last hope against false laws.

In thunder donned, in dragon language versed,

grand Ulfric, King of Jarls, by Shor is blessed.

/

The crow is old and bound soon to good rest,

good Tsun will not accept her traitor soul.

We’ll send to him her lousy courtly pest,

so Stuhn can fill with hearts his eating bowl.

/

Far east of our beloved homeland it lies,

the home of our last hope against false laws.

In thunder donned, in dragon language versed,

grand Ulfric, King of Jarls, by Shor is blessed.

/

You, who in Dragonsreach silently sits,

make up your mind before we get to you

or you’ll be crying hanging by the wrists

as we drag you to drown in a bayou.

/

Far east of our beloved homeland it lies,

the home of our last hope against false laws.

In thunder donned, in dragon language versed,

grand Ulfric, King of Jarls, by Shor is blessed.