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Journey over the northern lands and calm the winter winds

To aid the farmer’s hands with her golden hair

To grow the fields and yield long heavy ears of corn

And ease the path of winters wrath

Amidst morning, day and night

The jeweled comb runs through

Washed in the purest streams

And dried on sunning stone

In high regard

Of her sun kissed mane

She closes her eyes and sleeps to pass the day

Slumber

Slumber by the magic from the god of mischief and fire

Severed Thor’s greatest treasure

Curls lay on the ground as tears begin to fall

Her crowning beauty

Flows no more

Her bare skin cold and weightless beyond middays light

Led in veil to the court of the immortals

In search of the wicked one

To make him right the wrong

To the lady of the house of thunder

Beneath the earth are the guardians

With hammers and tongs to craft

The cap of golden hair

For the goddess of the harvest

The wicked one returns

Unveil

Unveil thy self

Her radiance returns

She dances with renewed life

Bliss in her eyes

Commence the gathering