In the care bo thundra, in the wild buring land. On the fearsikt ice, where the polarbear stand. Where the trail of the eskimoe, hunter is one. This is the country where legends are born. Where the northern lights blaze above a cold arcit case and care bo come to an old shamans drum. In saloon and danchalls, they taut all the gold. There were stories of furters, stories of cold. Trail of very gold mainor is one. This is the country where legends are born. Where they masiored a man by the gold in his hand, speed of his gun and the dogs he would run. They came here to sattle, to build a new land. Enter mountains and wallys, in cabbins they stand. The trail of hardy home standers is one. This is the country where legends are born. This field you see now where broke by the ply the children of grown to build homes of there own. In the care bo thundra, in the wild buring land. On the fearsikt ice, where the polarbear stand. Where the trail of the eskimoe, hunter is one. This is the country where legends are born.