Back then, infinitely long ago
We Frisians spread out by the water
The years flew by in a blur
But we Frisians still look broad today
On the North Sea coast, on the Low German beach
The fish are in the water and rarely on land
After high tide comes low tide, after low tide the high tide
The dikes sometimes hold poorly and sometimes well
The dunes wander back and forth along the beach
From Greenland to Flanders, more or less
On the North Sea coast, on the Low German beach
The fish are in the water and rarely on land
The seals sing a lament
Because they can't wag their tails, such sh*t
The sheep bleat like idiots on the dike
And they promptly garnish it with black-green balls
On the North Sea coast, on the Low German beach
The fish are in the water and rarely on land
On the North Sea coast, on the Low German beach
The fish are in the water and rarely on land
On the North Sea coast, on the Low German beach
The fish are in the water and rarely on land
On the North Sea coast, on the Low German beach
The fish are in the water and rarely on land