Worthy Axes

by Tarnal Mithdae

We chop them down, like excess timber
If they be old, or they be limber
We send their souls to Armagg-Odhin
That he might find our axes worthy

Women, Children, it does not matter
Their blood shall rain, a pitter-patter
We send their souls to Armagg-Odhin
That he might find our axes worthy

We leave a wake of graves and pyres
And such fear our approach inspires
We send their souls to Armagg-Odhin
That he might find our axes worthy

The fallen corpses do we revere
And o'er them we shall drink our beer
We send their souls to Armagg-Odhin
That he might find our axes worthy

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