[Intro] [Lonesome singing fiddle and weeping pedal steel set a cold acoustic groove, joined by a steady Telecaster twang and tight punchy drums] [Verse 1] New Year’s night, seventeen-nineteen The king is dead, the end unforeseen Fredrikshald extinguished the spark Armfeldt turns back in the cold and the dark Six thousand men on a barren slope From Tydal crossing, stripped of hope Ragged coats and soleless shoes In this frozen pass, there is all to lose A sudden blizzard breaks the sky No shelter here where soldiers die [Pre-Chorus] Whoever sits to catch their breath Is frozen instant into death Falling asleep in the drift and snow Six thousand feet in the frost below [Chorus] Death march over the mountain rim! Winter harvest, bitter and grim! Three thousand corpses in a frozen grave No imperial banners left to save! No enemy musket, no cannon blast Just the white inferno taking the past! [Verse 2] Men and horses stiff in the deep Left on the ridge in eternal sleep Burning musket stocks for a dying flame White ghosts whispering a lost king’s name Regimental standards abandoned in ice A broken empire paying the price Half an army stumbles into Handöl town Frostbit limbs as the dusk comes down A phantom brigade from the arctic height Crawling out of the endless night [Bridge] Muskets in the drift No drums left to beat The mountain keeps the dead January seventeen-nineteen Frozen to iron! [Chorus] Death march over the mountain rim! Winter harvest, bitter and grim! Three thousand corpses in a frozen grave No imperial banners left to save! No enemy musket, no cannon blast Just the white inferno taking the past! [Outro] Handöl. [Weeping pedal steel and slow acoustic fingerpicking fade with a final dry Telecaster resolve]
