He's dead, I watched him die.

He cast a spell on my mate,

They loved, and the moon whirled 'round the sky,

They mocked at my rage and hate.

Blood red from the burning sea

The sun rose, and I knew!

My soul whined wild little songs to me,

I did what I had to do.

I have taken the bone of his thigh,

I have fashioned it into a horn;

And I sing my soul's song, shrill and high,

And curse the day he was born.