| A colde sable midwinter’s nighte
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| In the wake of the storme
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| Loweringe clouds, a darksome skye
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| Fiercest wyndes, thundere roars
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| The huntinge wolves, an eerie sounde
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| Oh the doom’s drawing nearer
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| A deafening blare, sinister row
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| Baneful signes, awe and feare
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| Oh see them ride, crossinge the skies
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| Asgard’s warriors are raisinge a storme tonighte
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| Oh, heare afar, howlinge in the darke
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| The Ride of Asgard is preyinge througheoute the nighte
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| The Wilde Host is passing by
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| Arm’d and wroth be the horde
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| Undeade men, wolfe-warriors
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| One-ey'd olde Man to the fore
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| Some were burnt, some beheaded
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| Some still are spear’d by the sworde
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| Lo, beware, yielde their pathe
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| Avoide their sighte or be wolf’d by their coarse
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| Oh see them ride, crossinge the skies
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| Asgard’s warriors are raisinge a storme tonighte
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| Oh, heare afar, howlinge in the darke
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| The Ride of Asgard is preyinge througheoute the nighte
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| Oh see them ride, crossinge the skies
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| Asgard’s warriors are raisinge a storme tonighte
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| Oh, heare afar, howlinge in the darke
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| The Ride of Asgard is preyinge througheoute the nighte |