Oh, tundra vast, where winds do bite,
Where summer's day is winter's night.
A land of fire, ice, and sheep,
Of brooding skies that rarely sleep.
We thrive on lava, moss, and pride,
Though sometimes feel the world outside
Forgets we’re more than Björk and Cod—
Our quirks, our quirrels, our Viking squad.
We’re quiet folk, a tad reserved,
With humor dry, and smiles...
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