Runes on urns
Bones burn
do not turn your spine to Rome;
cry to the heavens
ravens nest on crosses
do not turn away from your faith
for their so called Holy Tome.

Be stalwart
ward off this Christian bane
demons lurk in prayers for a scarecrow nailed to its fate.
Wickedly, your spirit is snatched away
the death gate is one,
one of their prayers away
wickedly, our brothers, mothers,
all of us are gone.

Poisons slowly sicker
within an uncaught breath
Our grounds being wounded
where hellhounds maul Fenrir to death.
our myths are torn apart
part for the stories told by a crowned snake
shake it off, before it snatches, bites
strangles you to death.

Scream to Odin
Freya, Tyr and Thor
power your believes
sharpen your tongues and words
fire your forges
flail your name deep into stone
stand your truth deep to the bone
you will never fight alone.

The harbingers battle in the skies
fathom our valkyries cry
blades cutting deep
steel and blood weeping
we try, we stand, we defend
our harvest, heritage, home
let their scrying angels die
shut close, smash
banish their so-called
Holy Tome!