This is our Motherland

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In the feilds of green,
The hills of stone,
We hear the call,
This is our motherland,

Enraptured by the spirit of the Norfolk,
The color of our ancient culture,
Drowned by the cold rain,
Covered by molten snow,
But soon we shall see the first green,

Our heritage will bring howling winds across the land,
Like a behemoth we shall rise,
No more shall only dampened leaves show,

Old stone crumbles,
Leaving fragments of our ancestors past,
The memory of an ancient wind,
That once dwelled the land,
Shall come again.





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