Prowling in the swamp,
Where angelica grows,
We drink home made hooch
And hail our gastronomy.
We... are... Pictavian bastards!
Wandering the Roman ruins,
Where wars took place,
We insult the Parisian supremacy
And speak our language.
Under the sign of the red lion,
We honour the ancient Counts.
Facing the demise of our land,
We'll stand till the last breath.
We... are... Pictavian bastards!
Praising a satanic philosophy,
Where christianity ruled,
We will conquer the world
And spread the Black Metal plague.
We... are... Pictavian bastards!
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