(music: V.H. Targino / lyrics: R. Salgueiro, P. Fonseca, V.H. Targino)
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 and foresights a storm
The leaves have fallen on the ground
Believe it or not, the snow will fall
We shall gatter all the food
Before the winter comes
As faster as we can
Leave for latter all the fun
Raise your axe and cut the wood
And throw it all in fire
As faster as we can
That's our king's desire
Cut the whead
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!