At Gefnhame the corn is gold
and Thunor’s thought on harvest sought
with entrails spread upon the field
the Priest does peer and then proclaims.
Good sun for two more weeks He grants
then reap and stack, all hands to work.
On Lytelman a choice is clear
the call for men to gather here.
But Gefnhame’s dark hours are fear’d
the dogs they bark and windows barred.
No man sets foot outside the house
unless the fiend doth catch him there.
The new Lord says Fair Gefion’s mere
may hold the key to how to slay
this terror in the night. And with
a band of silver for it pays.
Across the marsh five men walk slow
with Nothgyth on the path, and there
were caught by giant toad whose tongue
spat out and lashed our careful file
Wistan Wulf lept in the water
and Cynwulf waded sunk to breast
Then Lytelman lept forth but found
a depth too great and sink he did!
The toad it chewed on Wistan well
til Thunor’s wrath was called to bear
and maid and priest fished in the mirk
and pulled the axeman out to dry
At the mere the priest disrobed
and swam under the surface long
sent silver to the deepest reach
in payment for the Lady’s word
In short, be Geats! Step up and fight!
The dark fiends only need be met
with valour, honour and stout heart
nought more can Gefion advise
Two nights after, with wards well set,
undead rise up at dead of night
Two then two, and two more appear
and wightbane harms them not at all
Great Sweyn is farthest, Nothgyth close
but base blades bite not on these foes
soon shields and hope are much in need
and bodies pile bashed to their knees
Fall and stumble, squirm and fumble
the Strength of Thunor saves the Priest
while Svipdag’s cunning gathers fire
and with the flame he sets about
Soon undead blaze and tables turn
and Lordling puts the last to rest
The quiet night returns once more
the barking stops and moon shines bright
Cuts and bruises, with us linger.
So remember! Fine weapons wield,
black axe and fire, shield are needed
to put the undead down for good.