Hela Hwyl

Half the face of Beauty
Half the face of Death
Old age becomes us, our final duty
To thee we trust, our final breath
Strongest somber, silent girl
Keeper of thine sacred world
Therein lies our fates to thee
My soul would gladly go
Valhalla high upon the Tree
In thine arms I'm but a doe
Coldest kindness ever felt
To thine altar I weep and knelt
Sorrows mine too are thine
Ancestors dine along sacred shrine
Wisest woman, greatest halls
Even Gods to thee shall fall
And thine arms welcome each and all
As we cry our final call