We will meet again,
some sunny day this summer,
and greet each other.
The clouds are out now,
but the sun is shining through,
promising good things.
The dragons do sleep,
comfortable on their gold,
and other treasures.
What woke them up then,
a careless wsih or sly charm,
or noise all about.
The sea covers them,
and deep in the ocean they rest,
in deep sea caverns.
A star looks on them,
from Orion, in his belt,
a rarely seen star.
The Norse know it well,
and when seen it bids them well,
and so they would go.
The boats assemble,
along the shores and ready,
for this Dragon feast.
We will meet again,
is their song through the spring nights,
sung to fiery foes.
