Valhalla

Siggurd was an Odin-man, the last of pagan kind
For churchmen ruled the countryside and all men they could find
But Siggurd prayed to Odin-god with heart and soul and mind
In hopes that he would reach Valhalla

Siggurd died in battle, crying "Odin!" to the last
Beyond the reach of churchmen's heaven his soul speeded past
But when he reached the Bifrost bridge, he found the gates barred fast
Alas, no entry to Valhalla

Odin's voice called to him then, "The gate I'll not unbar
"For we are under siege; with churchmen's heaven we're at war
"Yet I shall keep my pledge to you, though you must wander far
"Still, I shall bring you to Valhalla!"

The winds of time took Siggurd then and whipped him down the years
They burned away his memories of love and hope and fears
And left him as a newborn babe whose foremost cry and tears
Were for lost promise of Valhalla

This age and name fit ill on him, he grew to man's estate
A thoughtful, bookish, lonely lad who felt betrayed by fate
Who dreamed and read and oft regretted he was born too late
For the age of Odin and Valhalla

Then he came upon anachronists who kept the ancient skills
Gladly did he join with them and practiced with all will
For he felt an old hope stirring as he persisted still
A long step closer to Valhalla

He called himself Lord Siggurd now, he dressed in black bear skin
He hastened through his duties to his mundane work and kin
For in the weekend combat, he could feel the veil wear thin
Till it seemed he could almost reach Valhalla

In time, he won a Baron's rank; the folk bowed down before
At length, a herald rose and said, "M'lord, you could do more
"Pray, bring your skills with us this year out to the Eastern War
"It's the next best thing to old Valhalla!"

So Siggurd went to war that year and stared at what he found
The ancient garbed and armored folk, the clanging battleground
The marketplace, the mead halls, and the campsite sprawling round
And he felt time shift him to Valhalla

For look, the warriors battled there so merrily all day
And maidens resurrected everyone the strokes would slay
Then at the mead hall they would feast and sing the night away
Oh, it fit all descriptions of Valhalla

'Twas true, it wasn't perfect; there was war but twice a year
With lesser revels once a month in kingdoms far and near
And all the dreary lesser days, the mundane world was here
But it was close enought to call Valhalla

Be careful what paradise you deal
What hope you make other dreamers feel
For if too many hear it, they will struggle to draw near it
And in the search, they just might make it real

So every war and revel now, go to the feasting hall
And there you'll find a Viking lord named Siggurd standing tall
And giving thanks to Odin for the pledge kept after all
Singing, "Yo ho, welcome to Valhalla!
"For we have made our own Valhalla!
"For we are the builders of Valhalla!"