We come from the land of the ice and snow, where we underdress, where we play Bloodbowl.
Runner of the Gods.
We'll make pick-ups with Sure Hands.
To spike the ball
Touchdown and cry:
Valhalla I'm coming ...

On we sweep with the thrashing claw,
Our only goal will be the endzone, yours.

We come from the land of the ice and snow, where we underdress, where we play Bloodbowl.
How soft your fields of green
Can whisper tales of gore
Of how we POMB'ed the line of orcs
We are Bood Bowl Overlo-o-o-o-ords.

On we sweep with the thrashing claw,
Our only goal will be the endzone, yours.

So now you'd better block
And wrestle all your humans
For Pass and Catch can win the day
In spite of all your losing