The Messenger

Oh black raven, my raven

What have you foreseen

Dark tidings and woe

Rich pickings for death

Let the gods wipe my tears

With this falling rain

Let this lake be my graveside

And woods the golden hall

Our braves long since fallen

With the tides of the war

Our words no more spoken

I'm ready to fall

Bare message, my raven

To gods I long to see

Blackbird of the chosen

Bare this prayer for me

Oh black raven, my raven

Bare message for me

Come closer the foe

And take my last breath

Blackbird of the chosen

Bare this prayer for me