For Norway, birthplace of warriors,
we this toast will empty,
and when we get a taste of it
we sweetly dream of freedom;
Though we will wake someday
and break chains, bonds and coercion.
For Norway, birthplace of warriors,
we this toast will empty!

Each brave hero, among cliffs born,
we will drink to honour;
Each honest Norwegian, who chains broke,
will forever be loved!
The wrathful guard’s crackling guns,
explains truthfully Norwegians’ cause.
Each honest Norwegian, among cliffs born,
We will drink to honour!

A toast to you, my handsome friend,
and to the Norwegian girls!
If you have one, then a toast to her,
and shame on those who betray!
Yes, shame on those who love coercion
and hate girls, wine and song!
A toast to you, my handsome friend,
and to the Norwegian girls!

And yet a toast to Norway’s mountains,
to cliffs, snow and hills!
Hear Dovre's echoes cry “Good luck!”
for its toast thricefold thanking.
Yes, thrifold three all mountains will
for Norway's sons cry "Good luck!"
Still yet a toast to you, my mountain,
to cliffs, snow and hills!