Talk of weapons and might in war You are swollen with pride Bale and hatred i bring for you O sons of the glorious gods Ithun you are of women most lustful in love Since thy washedbright arms did wind about Your brothers slayer gir No such feast shall you make no more Over all you have which is here within Shall play the flickering flame Though on the rocks the gods bind me With bowels torn Forth from my frostcold son I was first and last I mix their mead with venom I WolfFather
frostcold, washedbright, wolffather, ithun, gir