Rewritten by Vaygar-Ingvald Elmersson to reflect a more adequate style in
meter and verse.
A Heathen Night Before Yuletide
'Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the Hall
Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall.
I in my armor, my greaves and my helm
Was drunker than anyone else in the Realm.
I staggered upstairs and fell into bed
With four quarts of mead ablaze in my head.
Then up from below came sounds of a brawl
I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the Hall.
I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap
Thinking, "Why can't those low-lifes downstairs go to sleep?"
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But two brawny strangers with hammer and spear.
I said to myself, “I'll soon have them beat!"
Yet noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet.
I gave out a yell and leapt to the fray...
I'll always regret my poor choice of that day.
For the one laid his hammer to side of my nose
And up, up, up to the rafters I rose.
Then came a lone voice from down on the floor,
"Those are no mortal warriors -- that's Odin and Thor!"
They looked at each other and said, "Battle's done.
Since they know who we are, it’s no longer fun."
Then Thor raised his hammer at his elbow he bent,
And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went.
I crawled through the Hall and flung open the door,
Not really sure that I'd seen them before.
The snow bathed in moonlight, the stars intercede,
I saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed.
I heard them exclaim, 'ere they flew out of sight,
"TO HELA WITH YULETIDE, WE JUST LOVE A GOOD FIGHT!"