Der er et yndigt land,
Det står med brede bøge
Nær salten østerstrand;
Det bugter sig i bakke, dal,
Det hedder gamle Danmark,
Og det er Frejas sal.
Der sad i fordums tid
De harniskklædte kæmper,
Udhvilede fra strid;
Så drog de frem til fjenders mén,
Nu hvile deres bene
Bag højens bavtasten.
Det land endnu er skønt,
Thi blå sig søen bælter,
Og løvet står så grønt;
Og ædle kvinder, skønne mø'r,
Og mænd or raske svende
Bebo de danskes øer.
Hil drot og fædreland!
Hil hver en danneborger,
Som virker, hvad han kan!
Vort gamle Danmark skal bestå,
Så længe bøgen spejler
Sin top i bølgen blå.
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A lovely land is ours
With beeches green about her
Encircled by the sea
Her hills and vales are manifold
Her name, of old, is Denmark
And she is Freya's home
In days of long-ago
This land was home to heroes
From war they rested here
Then forth they went, to smite the foe
Now to their graves they've gone
Among the barrow-stones
This land is yet so fair
Her waters yet so blue
And green are still her leaves
And noble ladies, maidens fair,
And men and able lads
Still dwell on Danish soil
Hail Sovereign, hail Home!
Hail every Dane who labours
To do his very best
Our ancient Denmark shall abide,
While yet the waves reflect
The beeches in their blue
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