Years of famine and years of sigh Reaps our land that fell from crest. Creatures, serfs and men hanged high Yet no remedy. What will ever please our Gods? Gather the chiefs and sages. What will save the tomorrow From these Dark Ages. Slay and sacrifice our king, Coat the statues with noble blood. Intensify the holy smoke With a royal lamb. Now neither your braves, your wise nor gold So far renowned Will be of aid now as the doomsday call. Now you must rise up to show the steel Courage of your heart, And soon you'll raise your horn in Valhalla's hall. Skula, Skorpa, Skalk En man han tjnt herr lagers grd I sommar, vinter r fr r. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? Fr slit och slp under himmel gr Han blott sitt brd som lning fr. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? S kommer hastigt budet in: - Vr herre lgrar dotra din! Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? Och trllen nu genom drren steg, Han lmna plogen vid rkerns teg. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? - Herr lager hr nu mina ord, Min doter till din hora gjord. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? Och lager sa i vredesmod: - Du vrnar ej om ditt trlablod. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? Varken l eller vin dig mnat, Ej heller gortt Dock Skula, Skorpa, Skalk. Trl visste ej ett ord utav Frrns strupen hans var skuren av. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? - Det hr r nog fr bot idag Och dotra tar jag vid behag. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? - Kom jag ska visa dig min rtt Att trsta dej p valfritt stt. Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? "O tack!" Han sa med grtmild rst Och sttte kniven uti hans brst. - Sg mig, vem srjer nu fr dig? |
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