A chill wind blows through Asgard's fields
As a hero rests upon his shield.
We weep, but our wearied souls will mend,
As we fill our hearts with tales of his end.
One hundred-twenty of us are gathered here this day,
To send another of the mighty on his way.
This man sailed with Huginn
And made bows from mighty trees,
Another man slew giants
and brought Loki to his knees,
Now they will join the ranks
In the spear-wall
Beneath the roof of shields
At Odhinn's golden hall!
The tales of our folk,
And our heathen pride
Shall resound through the ages-
As sleipnir ever rides.
Even their sorrow'd deeds
Shall be told with mirth,
While immortal flagons raise
Until the ends of the Earth.
Hail the fallen, tell their tales
Around the fires, over ales
Heroes in honour lie
See that legends never die!
