A final battle of the danes

Here we march this day come now
fulfilling our oath carrying out our vow
we march to fields of crimson color
a scene that is so much duller
our lives are spent no turning back for us
we keep on marching no dismay no fuss
we walk onto this empty canvas
over the sides no one passes
solemnly we march onto hell
with the slow sound of the ringing bell
we the ones, the dead to be
how to win, now dead are we
the soldiers of battle, we march on in
soon to silence out the din
so i turned to the men
and shouted here comes our end
and with a cheer they run on forward
and each withdraws there own sword
for here we fight today and forever
a danish army to cut and to sever