Green Horizon

We stay, we grow, where the two rivers run,
Our saga begins under England's sun.
Arrows like rain falling down on the thatch,
They strike at the gate, but they're met with a match.
We don't want the gold, we just want the loam,
Every drop of our sweat makes this valley a home.
Digging the trenches while holding the shield,
Refusing to break and refusing to yield.
From a camp to a village, a village to a town,
The roots of the northmen are anchoring down.