After battle and blood
The captives are freed
Most tired and wounded
With some in grave need
Spare arms are shared out now
Some healing is done
More herbs are required
For mending of bones
‘Fore long we are set on
A small band of wights
Wulfs and the Littleman
Make light of the fight
But the Wulf with the luck
Gives chase to one runner
In haste to catch up
Runs into another
And the luck he did carry
Had served in the past
But god’s gifts are fickle
And known not to last
Impaled on two spear throws
Wulf fell in that glade
He died as a hero
With blood on his blade
His death gave us courage
Thunor gave us space
Soon we had pucklemen
Fleeing at a pace
Fare well to our kinsman
With Woden you rest
The luck that did serve you
No more will you test