...Where His Ravens Fly...

Geri and freki does heerfather feed
The far-famed fighter of old
But on wine alone does the one-eyed god
Wuotan, forever live.

O'er midgard hugin and munin both
Each day set forth to flay
For hugin i fear lest he come not home
But for munin my care is more.

There valgrind stands, the sacred gate
And behind're the holy doors
Old is the gate, but few there are
Who can tell how it's tightly locked.

Five hundred doors and forty there are
I ween, in walhall's walls
Eight hundred fighters through one door fare
When to war with the wolf they go.

Five hundred rooms and forty there are
I ween, in bilskirnir built
Of all the homes who'se roofs i beheld
My son's the greatest meseemed.

There is folkvang, where freyja decrees
Who shall have seats in the hall
The half of the dead each day does she choose
The other half does othin have.

There is gladsheim, and golden-bright
There stands walhall stretching wide
There does othin each day choose
All those who fell in fight.

Now am i othin, ygg was i once
Ere that did they call me thund
Wodan and oden, and all, methinks
Are the names for none but me.

Hail to thee, for hailed thou art
By the voice of veratyr
Where valgrind stands, the sacred gate
Ye will find nine golden doors.

Hail to thee, for hailed thou art
By the voice of veratyr
Old is the gate, but few there are
Who can tell how it's tightly locked.