The Shield-maid's Dance of Death

What foe is this who stands between
My kinsman-king and I?
His eyes are cold, his voice is fell,
He doubts he still can die.
But come now, foulest dwimmerlaik,
Today death claims her due,
For I am neither dead nor man:
My blade shall drink of you.

It's beat and bind and cut and thrust
It's eye and arm and breath
It's nerve and bone and steel and blood
The Shield-maid's Dance of Death

For I have ridden far, my foe,
Ignoring king's command;
My honour died in Harrowdale,
But sword still rests in hand.
Your honour died an age ago,
Or so the minstrels say.
So shall we spar for something else,
Or shall you step away?

It's beat and bind and cut and thrust
It's eye and arm and breath
It's nerve and bone and steel and blood
The Shield-maid's Dance of Death

My breath, it catches in my throat --
'Tis true, I am afraid!
What throat have thee, what breath to catch,
What blood to meet my blade?
For if fear beats all through my breast,
'Tis proof I am alive.
But what of you, my half-dead foe,
What hope that you'll survive?

It's beat and bind and cut and thrust
It's eye and arm and breath
It's nerve and bone and steel and blood
The Shield-maid's Dance of Death

Your mace swings high above our heads,
I quickly step aside.
It's sad: I know what you do not,
I know that you can die.
So swing away, I'll dance with thee,
Until we both be felled;
Remember, she who seeks for death
Has naught to lose as well.

It's beat and bind and cut and thrust
It's eye and arm and breath
It's nerve and bone and steel and blood
The Shield-maid's Dance of Death,
The Shield-maid's Dance of Death.