"swine of satan, i hail thee !
Tomorrow is the day when our king, the horned pig, shall return !
So together we shall now execute the christian farmers !
Gruiiiiik..."
From the darkened spheres of the swinerealms
To the depths of the human mud
The frozen winds of winter are lashing the souls
Of the christian farmers who will spill their blood
By night the pig spirits wander
And infernal grunts disturb the farmers' sleep
Pigeonized they lie, paralyzed by terror
As the blasphemous voice rings from the deep
Battles, battles in the farm
"those straight-tailed beasts, those hairless primates
They shall be mine, they shall be dead... gruik !"
From his deadwhite throne, the hog is watching
Looking down from the winter skies
The ethereal winds carrying his contempt
For the human kind trapped in their lies
Battles, battles in the farm
For the pigs of the swinerealms
Battles in the farm.