The winter is coming fast
There is no time to rest
The seeds are grown
The last harvest till cold

We must feed our children
We must feed our wives
The breeze is cold
The last harvest till cold

The sun is not shining anymore
The sky is cloudy, foresights of storm
The leaves have fallen on the ground
Believe it or not, the snow will fall

We shall gather all the food
Before the winter comes
As faster as we can
Leave for later all the fun
Raise your axe and cut the wood
And throw it all in the fire
As faster as we can
That's our king's desire

Cut the wheat
Light the fire
Chop the wood
King's desire

I'm the one that you all fear
And I've taken many lives
In a way or another they fell
Your last harvest until me!

We must feed our children
We must feed our wives
The breeze is cold
The last harvest till cold

We shall gather all the food
Before the winter comes
As faster as we can
Leave for later all the fun
Raise your axe and cut the wood
And throw it all in the fire
As faster as we can
That's our king's desire