Time has worn the soldiers down
 Marched for many miles
 In the eastern lands so cursed
 Time to make a stand

 Tsar has scorched his nation's land
 Nothing to be found
 Hunger grasp the soliders heart
 20 000 men strong

 Listen, excuse for a king
 [bad word] me, this fight you can't win

 Poltava
 Rode to certain death and pain
 Poltava
 Swedish soldiers met their bane
 Poltava
 Sacrificed their lives in vain
 Poltava

 In the shade of morning mist
 Advancing on their foe
 Bullets break the silent air
 Wasted battleplan

 Swedish forces stand alone
 King has [bad word] [bad word] is left to lesser men
 Waiting for their chance

 Listen, obey [bad word]  Hear me, or die by my hand
 [bad word] armies blocked their way
 20 000 lost that day
 They bled the ground
 Peace they found
 There's no sign of victory
 King Carolus had to flee
 And leave the land
 [bad word] 
 Madness, curse your feeble horde
 Fear me, you'll die by my sword