Berserkergang Glorious

She roared in
With a fury
And abandon
Rarely seen

Charging in with
Naught but
Two axes
And terrible vigor

Creating corpses
As she waded
Through swathes
Of combatants

Only dried blood
Decorated her garb
As new blood
Rained upon it

A fire raged
In the eyes
Like a gift from
Odin himself

A trance-like fever
Made her immune
To the flames
And steel of enemies

With battle cries
Two axes
And the promise
Of Valhalla awaiting

Focused recklessness
Drove her to charge
Into combat as a
Savage discipline

Hearing in her mind
As heads rolled
Chants in Old Norse
And djent

Daughters and sons,
Hearken these words
And know my voice!

Ingen kan
Rive mitt kjott,
Og ingen dyr
Kan drepe meg!

Vi fortsett a
Legendene i nord,
Hvor vi kan vaere
Legende i sang!”

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