Now the storm begins to lower
Haste!
The loom of war prepare.
Iron, sleet of arrow we shower,
Hurdles!
In the darkened air.
Weave the crimson web of war.
(Sing)
Weave the crimson web of war
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where our friends the conflict share,
Where they triumph, where they die.
Weave the crimson web of war
This woof is y-woven with entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted with heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled for spindles we use,
So weave we, weird sisters, our warwinning woof.
Weave, we weird sisters, our warwinning woof.
Wind we, wind swiftly, our warwinning woof.
When sword-bearing rovers to banners, rush on.
Mind, maidens, we spare not one life in the fray!
We course-choosing sisters have charge of the slain.
Ere the ruddy sun be set,
Pikes must shiver, javelins sing,
Blade with clatt'ring buckler met,
Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.
Crash and ring, ring, ring, ring
Weave the crimson web of war.
We the reins to slaughter give,
Ours to kill, and ours to spare:
Spite of danger he shall live!
Weave the crimson web of war.
Now the path of fate we tread,
(Your fate is ours to tread)
Wade thro' th' ensanguin'd field:
(Through the bloodshed)
Gondula and Geira, spread
(Valkyries come)
O'er the youthful king your shield.
Shield the youthful king!
Hail to our king!
Protect the handsome king!
Wind we, wind swiftly, our war-winning woof,
And let us steadfastly stand by the brave king;
Then men shall mark mournful their shields red with gore,
How Swordstroke and Spearthrust stood stout by their lord.
Hail the task, and hail the hands!
Songs of joy and triumph sing!
Joy to the victorious bands;
Triumph to the younger king!
Triumph to the younger king!
Weave the crimson web of war.
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where our friends the conflict shared,
Where they triumphed, where they died.
Weave the crimson web of war!