The little woman in the other fields

Once upon a time begins a legend of old

Lived a little woman in Salzburg’s lands

When night emerges she would roam thru the fields

Alluring the weary travelers on the stony bridge

With the passion and intention

To frighten them till their hair stood on ends

And as soon as the first glimpse of dawn breaks out

She would vanish in the mists of illusion

While she utters a shrilling shout.

But, that is not our story

Or the lady that we seek.

We have another to tell,

Written on ethereal flows…

She was born from phoenix’s ashes

In the year of the draug, the thirteen week

And her name for sure no one knows

As worlds collide and heaven crashes

She wandered upon the blasphemous lands

Blessing the fiends with plague and turning water to sand.

Ivory bones of her ancestors rest easy in the family tomb

As she carries the next apocalypse deep in her unholy womb;

She is untamed and revered by a gruesome song

For her deeds as immortal stand tall for ages long:

She cut down the mighty pillar Yggdrasill

For not moving and in her way standing still;

She went to Nifleheim and the huldrefolk conquered,

Then by a waidelothin in Hvergelmir’s tenebrous water baptized;

The waelcyrge felt the unstoppable wrath

When got a taste of their own poison for crossing her path;

She entered the dreams of mortals and, with caress,

Like a walriderske, gave them beauteous nightmares;

From underworld’s river Slid she chose her weapons;

Slew the Skogsjungfru so there were no more crops or rations;

The Earendel stood on the sky warm and bright,

She chopped his body and renewed him in darkness’s light.

And many more villainous deeds are sung in the ode of grotesque bliss

But as our time has ended she insanely went amiss

If night comes over your fields, the quill’s words heed

Her presence is with you and she wants to feed

Upon an exhausted traveler, a brave knight or a diaphanous spirit to endark

Tell the story, sing the song, they will shiver in this tribute as they embark.