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Now the forest itself moves.
A thousand trolls cross a river
Not a sound, not a whisper is heard.
The war boar is driven across the river.
Soon they will fight, the ax to the sky is now raised.
Panic and fear, now see the Christian bow.
A grin now rises on the sorcerer's snout.< br/>He raises his axe, he whips a pig.
Faces turn to anger others turn to horror.
When the goblin army now rides, in a storm of blood and wood ¤ugh.
So one falls after another.
So the wind blows blood and limbs.
Less, however, of those trolls who protect their homes.
As if by a miracle now they meet.
King of Jehovah's people, those who pray.
And the sorcerer's ax now descends.
And with a mighty blow the king is cut asunder.
On the sorcerer's snout now rise a grin.
He raises his ax, he whips a pig.