The name of Aðalráðr is a name to be feared,
Farmin taters and onions by the word of the wyrd
And as long as I live I'd like to stay in Midgard
pickin chickens with my kinsmen folk and boilin lard

And if a Thorsson drops in from up and over the hill
Gettin up in my business askin barley for swill
Well I'll start to relax as I reach for my axe
It ain't a proper morning with no Thorsson to kill

But the Urd sisters were trippin when they cut up my fate
And when Nidhogg gets gnawin you know I have to hesitate
Cos I was chillin one day just washing blood off my axe
When the sky opened up and said
Stop.
Ragnarok.

Lothar, gettin hip with the bitches
slayin dragons and shit, and leaving bodies in the ditches