When Ragnorak comes, says Snòrri,
Roosters will desert their farms
And crow in graveyards until
We dead folk wake up. It's not quite clear
What our role's meant to be; the scheduled battles
Seem mostly to involve gods and monsters.
It may be we're to fight the heroes
Who've been training for centuries in Valhalla
Or the b-team heroes from Freya's Hall.
If so, don't bet on us; we're not the ones
Who got buried in armor with swords and war-axes
And spears and seaxes and shields
With twisty dragons painted on them.
Perhaps we're meant just to watch,
Making a knowledgeable comment now and then
"Well hammered, Thor! Nicely bitten, Fenris!
Ooh, bit of bad luck there, Odin!"
If roosters try to wake me I mean
To throw a shoe at them and go on being dead.
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