You rugged, you raw, you storm-beaten North, No flag, no king shall bind you. I greet you, land where no crown holds the earth, Your winds, your woods, your thunder cry. Your winds, your woods, your thunder cry. No tyrant’s tomb, no banner's faded tale Will hush the truth beneath your stones. I know you are more than their rusted old myths— Yes, I choose to live, not die for the North. Yes, I choose to live, not die for the North. They sold you in verses, they carved you in lies, Wrapped you in robes of empire. But we are the roots that crack their parade, The fire beneath their throne of ash. The fire beneath their throne of ash. No border can cage the song of the wild, No anthem can claim our breath. We’ll build a land that answers to none— Not crown, not creed, not blood nor war. Not crown, not creed, not blood nor war.
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