歌词
Gather 'round, let me spin you a tale, Of Norse gods and tricks that never grow stale, Loki, the trickster, always up to his games, This time he meddles with Brokkr, forging flames.
It started with a wager, a risky affair, Loki bet his head, thought he’d catch them unaware, To the brothers Sindri and Brokkr he went, Said, “Forge better treasures, or my head’s rent.
”Sindri got to work, in the heat and the smoke, Forging magic items, no ordinary folk, First came a boar, Gullinbursti it was called, Golden bristles, fast, never stalled.
Loki saw the work, couldn't let it slide, Turned into a fly, buzzing by their side, Bit Brokkr’s eye as he pumped those bellows, But the boar was done, gold and mellow.
Next up, they forged Draupnir, a golden ring, Eight more would spawn, a marvelous thing, Loki bit harder, Brokkr winced with pain, But the ring came out perfect, again and again.
Finally, the hammer, Mjollnir, the prize, Forged in fire with sparks in their eyes, Loki bit Brokkr’s eyelid, blood in his sight, Still, Brokkr kept working with all his might.
But the sabotage worked, the handle was short, Yet the hammer’s power could not be bought, Thor received Mjollnir, mighty and grand, Despite Loki’s tricks, it fit in his hand.
The gods judged the contest, treasures all laid, Loki’s head was spared, but a price was paid, Brokkr sewed Loki’s lips, a punishment tight, For the mischief he caused in the forge that night.
So heed this tale of Loki’s deceit, Even the gods aren’t safe from his feat, But Brokkr’s skill and persistence shone bright, Forging wonders, even in the night.
