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, foresights of storm The leaves have fallen on the ground Believe it or not, the snow will fall We shall gather all the food Before the winter comes As faster as we can Leave for later all the fun Raise your axe and cut the wood And throw it all in the fire As faster as we can That's our king's desire Cut the wheat 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! We must feed our children We must feed our wives The breeze is cold The last harvest till cold We shall gather all the food Before the winter comes As faster as we can Leave for later all the fun Raise your axe and cut the wood And throw it all in the fire As faster as we can That's our king's desire