Build strong the ship
Burn hot the fire
His weapons and his tools
Go with the Viking
To Asgaard
These are the Viking's rules

The Baltic Sea
The North Sea too
Bear runestones telling tales
Of last ill fated
Sail set on
Fiords echoing the wails

Survivors none
Of Ingvar's men
No mention of their pend
But on Mid Summer's
Night they tell
And mention well their end

Ill fated sail
To Serkland's ground
Southeast of Caspian Sea
A sickness grew
Made weak the lot
And they their pyre made be

Each with his tools
And weapons clutched
Each fell into the blaze
Valhalla's best
Welcomed to halls
Where drinking horns were raised