A burning blade to cauterise
Gaping wounds in battle made,
Mead’s madness hearts enflame
So that swinging sword and
Hacking axe still the standing slay
As ‘pon the field the berserks play,
Hoarding glory, an eldritch alchemy
Sending back the flesh of men
To the clay from whence they
Came, for only souls are
Borne away by Valkyries on
Wings of steel through the
Bloody breeze that the
Last gasps of heroes breathe,
Leaving then their manly meat
Upon the ground below
And, as spirits freed, they fly
To fair Valhalla’s halls,
There to feast and war
Eternally, while bards do roar
In the rarified air
High above the lofty skies.
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