I have not raised a sword against foes How it feels to kill I shall never know And I shall not die in a glorious fight So to sing of such honors is not in my right.
These rusted words hang Like a blade on my wall Spoken and dreamt of But ne’er used at all Till blood of the hated dyes my hands red I Will Not Sing of the men I left dead.
I never have journeyed on a longship o’er the waves Nor seen what awaits me beyond the grave I can’t claim to feast in the hall of the slain So I will not sing of such folly again.
It seems in this life The paths that I tread Will be stranger than those I’ll walk when I’m dead Until I fall silent and my spirit has gone I shan’t mock the next life with ignorant song
I’ve tasted the fruit of the grain and the vine I’ve spoken to spirits, their knowledge is mine But to sing of these encounters is as far as I’ll go I will never sing of what I do not know.
I know how to wander I recall how to sing But I’ll never claim To know everything So lest my strings break under weight of the lies I will not sing false, nor let pride cloud my eyes.