The Nine Herb Charm
Or should I say… the Nine Herb Galdr.
For shits and giggles, I looked into the Nine Herb Charm after hearing about it on Youtube. I found some English translations, but something – maybe my friend spirit or something – said the translations lacked. And what the hell. I’ve been reading Middle English sort of since I was 10 or so. I’d always wanted to look at Old English, i.e. Anglo Saxon. So I decided to use AI and translate it myself. Genuinely for shits and giggles.
It started out as my idea of fun. It soon became a learning exercise as I realized that I could use AI to learn Anglo-Saxon.
I’m not calling other translators wrong. First, I didn’t see that many translations – I got the idea to have some fun before I’d dug too deeply. It took me three days to put together this beauty, though. Oh the things I learned.
I learned that poison used to be one noxious serpent, but Odin came along with a bundle of twigs – his wonder-twigs1– and beat the shit out of it until it was scattered into nine pieces. (You kick that snake’s cloaca, Odin.) It’s a myth we know of through this charm, but not one that’s survived past it. (Still it bears retelling. We have enough to go on, dammit. I might tell it. I’ll literally do a vision walk and see what I get, m’kay?) I saw reference of two of Odin’s lost nine songs – actually I suspect at least part of one of them is preserved in this charm while another is clearly referenced. The other is probably preserved at least in part in a Frisian charm, and although that’s debatable… I didn’t look into it deeply enough to decide on my own. Oh, and apparently a seal thought it was nice to send a gift of crab-apples over to the mainland from way across the water.
I also learned about the prefix ge- and how some who translate are choosing more popularly used words for modern ears without keeping less popular words that aren’t dead yet!, while the less popular words preserve the actual meaning. This is a medical charm. Meaning is extremely important. Oh hell, with anything meaning is important. There’s a small movement of people like me who want literal translations in our anime, dammit.
I also, being as I’m a skaldish… type… person… tried to keep a bit of the poetry in the language. So without further ado, let me share my translation with you.
Nine Herbs Charm
Remember, mugwort, what you taught;
What you achieved at Regenmelde.
They called you The One, the eldest herb.
You have power over three and thirty.
You have power over poison and airborne disease.
You have power over the loathsome foe in the land.
And you, broadleaf plantain, mother of herbs;
You open eastward and are mighty inside.
Carts ran over you. Queens rode over you.
Over you brides stepped. Over you bulls snorted.
You endured it all and struck them senseless.
Thus you have power over poison and airborne disease
And the loathsome foe in the land.
This herb was named Stune; she sprouted on stone.
She stands against poison, she strikes stupid pain.
They call her Stiff; she stands against poison.2
She wrecks the wrathful, purges poison.
This is the herb with which the wyrm wrestled.
This has power over poison, she has power over airborne disease.
She has power over the loathsome foe in the land.
Fly now, poison-hater, lesser from greater
Greater from lesser, until there’s remedy for both.
Remember, chamomile, what you taught;
What you finished at Alderford,
That none from airborne disease succumbed
After one prepared well the chamomile brew.
This herb is named crab-apple.
A seal sent this from over the ocean ridge
To counter another poison.
These nine have power over nine poisons.
Sneaking in, the wyrm ripped and ruptured man.
Then Woden took nine glory-twigs,
Struck the serpents, to nine fragments they fractured.3
There ended apple and poison,
So it would never enter a house.
Thyme and fennel, the most mighty two,
The herbs created by the clever lord.
When he hung holy in the heavens,
He set and sent them to the seven realms
For the poor and the wealthy; a remedy for all.
She stands against pain, strikes poison dumb.
She has power over three and thirty,
Power over enemy’s strike and seizures,
Power over the withering words by men and wights.
Now may these nine herbs overpower the nine glory-flown ones,
Have power over nine poisons and nine airborne diseases,
Power over red poison, power over runny poison,
Power over white poison, power over unbalancing poison,
Power over yellow poison, power over green poison,
Power over the dark poison, power over crazing poison,
Power over brown poison, power over purple-blue4 poison,
Power over worm blisters, power over water blisters,
Power over thorn blisters, power over thistle blisters,
Power over ice blisters, power over poison blisters.5
If any poison comes flying from the east,
Or any comes from the north,
Or comes from the west over the people.
Christ stood over all sickness6
I alone know a flowing water7
Where the nine serpents keep watch nearby
May all plants now spring up with shoots;
Seas burst, all the salt water
When I blow this poison from you.8
Mugwort, eastward-opening broadleaf, lamb’s cress
poison-loathed, chamomile, nettle, wood-sorrel, thyme and fennel, and old soap.
Grind the herbs thoroughly together, mix with the soap and pulp from the crab-apple.
Make a salve of water and ashes. Add fennel and boil in the salve.
Bathe the wound or person with egg-mixture before applying the salve, and bathe the wound again after.
Sing the galdr three times on each of the herbs and on the crab-apple as you work them.
Sing the same galdr into the patient’s mouth and into each of their ears, and on the wound before applying the salve.
This took me three days, even with the help of AI. Yes, I could have had AI do it for me, but I wanted to get in there and dig. So it was my translator, telling me etymology and all sorts of wonder-twigs… I mean wonderful facts. And I want to share my translation process with you, so here’s a handy dandy table.
I genuinely feel this charm is a modified galdr chant – the chant you would say while performing galdr, a lost Germanic/Norse magical singing art. There are several places within that the stanzas imitate galdralaugs, which are specific types of poetry spells, and is filled with the repetitions needed to perform that type of magic. Galdr works with the wyrd and can change fate and other circumstance. The Nine Herb Charm is aiming to do that with a punch.9
I’ve put my notes below. It’s a shame that I probably won’t remember some of the technical information in about two days, give or take… unless I find more things to translate for shits and giggles. Practice keeps the brain active and the language… aaah… languaging.
| Old English | Literal English (thou/thee) |
|---|---|
| Gemyne ðu, mucgwyrt, hwæt þu ameldodest | Remember thou, mugwort, what thou made known Using “made known” keeps the old sense of ameldian and matches the charm’s idea that the herb itself once revealed its powers. |
| hwæt þu renadest æt Regenmelde | what thou didst accomplish at Regen-meeting |
| Una þu hattest, yldost wyrta | Una thou wast called, eldest of herbs |
| þu miht wið III and wið XXX | thou mayst against three and against thirty |
| þu miht wið attre and wið onflyge | thou mayst against poison and against on-flight (airborne sickness) Although modern translators give onflyge as “infectious disease”, it’s referring specifically to airborne pathogens. By using a blanket term, the power of the charm is diminished. In surviving Old-English material on-flyge never broadens beyond the “air-borne, suddenly-descending” concept. “Airborne pathogen(s)” or simply “air-borne harm” captures on-flyge precisely, while “infectious disease” is broader than the Old-English idea. |
| þu miht wið þam laþan ðe geond lond færð | thou may against the loathed one that lives in the land fares færþ (from faran) = “go, travel, proceed, fare, live, be situated.” The verb often means simple continuance or presence, not literal movement: • “hu ðe þincþ hit ðe fare” – “how thinkest thou it fares with thee?” (i.e. how art thou doing) • “swa hit on weorulde færed” – “as it went / fared in the world” (how things were). So the hateful one is not necessarily a creature marching about, but a pervasive, ever-present evil. |
| Ond þu, wegbrade, wyrta modor | And thou, waybread (broadleaf plantain/dock), mother of herbs |
| eastan openo, innan mihtigu | eastward open, inward mighty |
| ofer þe crætu curran, ofer þe cwene reodan | over thee carts ran, over thee queens rode |
| ofer þe bryde bryodedon, ofer þe fearras fnærdon | over thee brides stepped, over thee bulls snorted |
| Eallum þu þon wiðstode and wiðstunedest | all that thou withstoodest and didest stun wiðstunedest – literally “with stunned” as one meaning. It’s redundant to say withstood and withstand twice, when the charm is touting the might of these herbs. To stun is to strike senseless, and this charm seems to be all about that. |
| swa þu wiðstonde attre and onflyge | Thus thou withstand poison and on-flight |
| and þæm laþan þe geond lond fereð | and the loathed one that fares through the land |
| Stune hætte þeos wyrt, heo on stane geweox | Stune was called this herb; she on stone grew (water-cress, both kinds but Nasturtium officinale is more potent) |
| stond heo wið attre, stunað heo wærce | Stands she against poison, stuns she ache |
| Stiðe heo hatte, wiðstunað heo attre | Stiff she is called; withstands she poison Stiðe has been translated as “hard” however, stiff is not only etymologically the closest sounding word, the plant actually has stiff leaves. |
| wreceð heo wraðan, weorpeð ut attor | Wrecks she the wroth, casts out poison It’s important to keep the literal “wrecks” instead of translating to modern “drives out”. A hurricane still wrecks the land. You can still get wrecked. Ha ha. This herb is badass, and to use a different meaning takes away her power–not to mention dumbs us down by losing another word from our lexicon. |
| þis is seo wyrt seo wið wyrm gefeaht | this is that herb that with wyrm fought (The word is “worm/serpent,” the creeping bringer of poison or disease. Turning it into “dragon” is poetic flourish, not a literal translation—and it blurs the medical point of the charm.) |
| þeos mæg wið attre, heo mæg wið onflyge | this may against poison, she may against on-flight |
| heo mæg wið þam laþan ðe geond lond fereþ | she may against the loathsome that fares through the land |
| Fleoh þu nu, attorlaðe, seo læsse ða maran | Fly thou now, poison-hater, the lesser the greater “The lesser the greater,” is an ellipsis meaning “let the lesser one get away from the greater one.” We don’t know what the poison-hater exactly was. Betony, cock-spur grass, and nightshade are three debated candidates. It may very well be that the poison-hater was a poetic term for when the leech used any of these three or similar herbs that hate poison. Poetry is fun like that. |
| seo mare þa læssan, oððæt him beigra bot sy | the greater the lesser, until for them both remedy be |
| Gemyne þu, mægðe, hwæt þu ameldodest | Remember thou, mayweed (German or Roman chamomile), what thou made known mægðe refers to fragrant chamomiles—most likely German (Matricaria chamomilla) or Roman (Chamaemelum nobile)—whose sweet-scented blooms were prized for soothing eyes, calming fevers, easing gut spasms, and healing sores. German chamomile delivers the strongest anti-inflammatory punch (blue azulene oil), while Roman offers similar flavone-based relief with a milder scent and less staining. |
| hwæt ðu geændadest æt Alorforda | what thou broughtest to end at Alder-ford |
| þæt næfre for gefloge feorh ne gesealde | that never from past-flight life completely surrendered |
| syððan him mon mægðan to mete gegyrede | after one thoroughly prepared mayweed as food for him gegyrede means “thoroughly prepared,” the ge- prefix stressing that the mayweed must be fully processed—dried, boiled, or steeped—before use. Raw mayweed can irritate stomach, skin, or eyes, but complete preparation unlocks its soothing bisabolol and flavones and removes most bitterness. The charm therefore insists on ge-gyrde mægðan to ensure the herb heals rather than harms. |
| þis is seo wyrt ðe wergulu hatte | this is the herb which is named wergulu (crab apple) |
| ðas onsænde seolh ofer sæs hrygc | These a seal sent forth over sea’s ridge |
| ondan attres oþres to bote | Because of another poison, to help. The line says that wergulu (crab-apple) is sent specifically “to help” or “as a remedy” for a different kind of poison than the ones already named. So after the other herbs have dealt with ordinary venom and the flying attack, the crab-apple offers a further healing step against an additional poison. |
| ðas VIIII magon wið nygon attrum | these nine are able against nine poisons |
| Wyrm com snican, toslat he man | Wyrm came sneaking, he rend man |
| ða genam Woden VIIII wuldortanas | then took Wōden nine glory-twigs Possibly a smudging rite: Wuldor-tanas = “glory-twigs,” fresh green switches Wōden cuts, consecrates, and strikes or sprinkles with; comparable to the Norse hlaut-teinar dipped in sacrificial fluid. Each twig-stroke can be paired with one of Odin’s nine healing songs to drive poison away. |
| sloh ða þa næddran, þæt heo on VIIII tofleah | struck then those adders, so-that they to nine flew apart This is may be a ritual echo of Odin’s “nine mighty galdrar” in Hávamál. Each blow could’ve been marked with one of Odin’s nine lost healing songs, driving the venom out step-by-step; sadly the full verbal sequence has vanished, leaving only this compressed reminder of the larger rite. Later medieval remedies keep the same choreography even after Wōden’s name is replaced by Christ or a saint, and the healer recites a brief charm while “the worm is cut into nine parts.” Anglo-Saxon leechbooks, Frisian horse-charms, and German stitch-spells all repeat this pattern of nine blows + short formula, showing that the physical act from Wōden’s nine-twig episode survived intact while the original nine galdrar were compressed to a single refrain. |
| þær geændade æppel and attor | there brought to an end apple and poison When Wōden’s nine twig-blows are done, both the medicinal apple and the venom have run their course—nothing of either remains to harm the patient. |
| þæt heo næfre ne wolde on hus bugan | So that it never ever a house enter. |
| Fille and finule, felamihtigu twa | Thyme and fennel, the most mighty two fille is best understood as native wild thyme (Thymus polytrichus / T. praecox), the low, strongly aromatic “creeping thyme” that carpets English chalk-downs and heaths. Glossaries equate fille with Latin thymum, and its hot thymol-rich oil made it a favourite Anglo-Saxon carminative and anti-poison partner for fennel. |
| þa wyrte gesceop witig drihten | the herbs created the knowing lord (war-band-leader) In ancient poetry, “lord” often refers to God however in this piece the line is directly after mentioning a different lord with “Christ” being added later. Thus best to take this word literally. |
| halig on heofonum, þa he hongode | holy in heavens when he hung |
| sette and sænde on VII worulde | set and sent into seven realms (worlds) “Seven worlds” is likely a Christian rewrite. All native Germanic cosmology speaks of nine worlds, and the charm has just invoked Wōden, whose myths revolve around the number nine; “seven worlds” is Latin-Christian phrase for the seven climatic zones of the earth (I.E. realms not worlds). Later likely “nine worlds” was swapped for “seven realms”. |
| earmum and eadigum eallum to bote | For the poor and for the wealthy, all for remedy |
| Stond heo wið wærce, stunað heo wið attre | Stands she against ache, stuns to stun she against poison |
| seo mæg wið III and wið XXX | she may against three and against thirty |
| wið feondes hond and wið færbregde | against foe’s hand and against fast-jerk (seizures) færbregde is a compound of fær “sudden danger” + bregde “twitch, jerk”; in medical glossaries it equates to Latin ictus (“stroke, sudden blow”) and repentina passio (“sudden seizure”). Later folk-speech re-imagined the same abrupt, stabbing onset as “elf-shot.” The charm promises that wild thyme and fennel protect “against the stroke/seizure.” Fennel’s anethole and mild coumarins thin the blood and relax vessels, while thyme’s thymol improves circulation—actions that can reduce the clot-triggered vascular events we now recognise as strokes, so maybe so. |
| wið malscrunge manra wihta | against shriveling-speech of men, of wights |
| Nu magon þas VIIII wyrta wið nygon wuldorgeflogenum | Now may these nine herbs against the nine glory-flown ones |
| wið VIIII attrum and wið nygon onflygnum | against nine poisons and nine on-flights |
| wið ðy readan attre, wið ðy runlan attre | against that red poison, against the runny poison |
| wið ðy hwitan attre, wið ðy wedenan attre | against that white poison, against the maddening poison |
| wið ðy geolwan attre, wið ðy grenan attre | against that yellow poison, against the green poison |
| wið ðy wonnan attre, wið ðy wedenan attre | against that dark poison, against the maddening poison |
| wið ðy brunan attre, wið ðy basewan attre | against that brown poison, against the dusky poison |
| wið wyrmgeblæd, wið wætergeblæd | against wyrm-blister, against water-blister geblæd = “blister, fluid-filled swelling.” Wyrm-geblæd therefore means “worm-blister,” i.e. a clear, watery bleb caused by a creeping “worm.” Medieval leeches likely had in mind the winding, fluid-filled tracks of cutaneous larva migrans (hook-worm larvae under the skin), a common foot ailment that begins as an ordinary “water-blister” but soon shows the tell-tale serpent-like trail. |
| wið þorngeblæd, wið þystelgeblæd | against thorn-blister, against thistle-blister |
| wið ysgeblæd, wið attorgeblæd | against ice-blister, against poison-blister |
| gif ænig attor cume eastan fleogan | if any poison comes from the east flying Calling the quarters – East → North → West. Each clause banishes poison carried on the wind from that quarter. South is left unsaid, but the triad is enough for a magical circle: once you have barred three sides, the fourth is implicitly sealed. |
| oððe ænig norðan cume | or any from the north comes A healer could stand facing each direction in turn, reciting the line and striking the salve-staff. The same east-north-west order appears in other Old-English prayers and benedictions, so the audience would recognize the motion even without “south” being spoken. |
| oððe ænig westan ofer werðeode | or any from the west over the people Why begin with east? East is the sunrise quarter—the place where good power comes first, but also the gate through which bad airs can blow at dawn. Anglo-Saxon charms that “ring” the space (e.g. Wiþ Færstice: east → north → west → south) usually start eastward. – this the AI told me. I’m open to correction here. |
| Crist stod ofer adle ængan cundes | Christ stood over sickness of any kind Likely Christian substitution. The stock charm-formula “Christ stood over illness of every kind” appears in several leechbook prayers; here it sits before a continuous Wōden speech. If we restore the original name—“Wōden stood over illness of every kind”—the stanza flows smoothly with the preceding nine-twig episode and the following first-person boasts that echo Odin’s lines in Hávamál. It’s conceivable the line once read, “Wōden stōd wið þǣre ādle ǣngan cundes” but we may never know. |
| Ic ana wat ea rinnende | I alone know a flowing water This first-person boast fits the Odin/Wōden voice that has just smashed the serpents: the god claims secret, life-giving knowledge—exactly the tone of Hávamál 138–141 (“I know where…”). |
| þær þa nygon nædran nean behealdað | where the nine adders keep watch nearby Old Norse cosmology says that at the deepest root of the World-Tree lies Hvergelmir, “the Seething Cauldron,” source of the rivers. Around that well the great serpent/wyrm Níðhöggr “and a host of snakes” (Grímnismál 32) ceaselessly coil and gnaw. The charm’s clause – “where the nine adders keep watch close by” – matches that picture exactly: hidden, life-giving water ringed by serpents that must be mastered before anyone may drink. The image therefore points straight toward the root-well beneath Yggdrasill, tightening the poem’s link to Óðinn’s own mythic haunt. |
| motan ealle weoda nu wyrtum aspringan | May all plants now spring up with shoots. |
| sæs toslupan, eal sealt wæter | seas burst, all salt water |
| ðonne ic þis attor of þe geblawe | when I blow this poison from thee |
| Those three lines are a cosmic flourish showing absolute command over the elements. When he blows the venom away, three domains must respond at once: “let every plant now spring up in shoots” → land obeys “let the seas burst apart, all salt water” → sea obeys “when I blow this poison from thee.” → breath/wind obeys In other words: the speaker’s breath is so potent that, at the very moment he expels the poison, earth makes all vegetation break forth and the oceans themselves split—an Odin-style boast of world-shaping power, not a gardening tip. | |
| Mugcwyrt, wegbrade þe eastan open sy, lombescyrse | Mugwort, waybread be east-open to thee, lamb’s-cress “Lamb’s-cress” (OE lombescyrse) is not a later Christian stand-in for stune. In the Anglo-Saxon leechbooks they are always listed as two distinct but complementary herbs: stune = water-cress (Nasturtium officinale) gathered from stream-beds, while lombescyrse = a small dry-land mustard—hairy bitter-cress or garden cress—found in sheep-pasture. Recipes such as Leechbook III 46 and Lacnunga 144 name mugcwyrt, stune, and lombescyrse in the same breath, showing the poets kept both pungent “cresses”: one aquatic, one terrestrial, to cover every habitat and supply a full range of peppery, cleansing properties. |
| attorlaðan, mægðan, netelan, wudusuræppel, fille and finul, ealde sapan. | poison-loathsome, mayweed, nettle, wood-sour-apple, fille and fennel, and old soap. In the Old-English Herbarium and in several Lacnunga recipes wudu-sura-æppel always glosses the Latin names acetosa, acetosella, or alleluia—plants we call wood-sorrel (Oxalis acetosella) or sheep-sorrel (Rumex acetosella). These little woodland herbs taste sharply sour because they are full of oxalic acid; medieval healers squeezed the leaf-juice for its cooling, astringent bite. the juice of the leaves is what the leech squeezes. soap being the fatty/lye base into which the powdered herbs are mixed. |
| Gewyrc ða wyrta to duste, mængc wið þa sapan and wið þæs æpples gor | Work thoroughly the herbs to dust, mix with the soap and of that apple’s pulp the fruit is a separate, pre-mashed ingredient—added to the soap, not pounded with the herbs—and preserves the practical chemistry of the charm. “Grind the herbs thoroughly to dust; mix that powder with the soap and with the pulp of that (wood-sour-)apple.” This might mean the sorrel, however The crab-apple ( wergulu) is a major character in the story. It was sent by a seal and was part of Wōden’s victory (“There ended apple and poison”). It is a named, mythically significant ingredient. |
| Wyrc slypan of wætere and of axsan, genim finol, wyl on þære slyppan | work salve of water and of ashes; take fennel, boil in that salve tells the leech to bring the fennel to a gentle, bubbling cook while it is sitting in the ash-and-water slip, extracting oils straight into the paste. |
| and beþe mid æggemong, þonne he þa sealfe on do, ge ær ge æfter | and bathe with egg-mixture when he the salve puts on, both before and after æggemong is a beaten-egg emulsion (often egg + water or egg + ale) used as a mild cleansing wash and as a sealant when it dries. |
| Sing þæt galdor on ælcre þara wyrta, III ær he hy wyrce, and on þone æppel ealswa | sing that galdr on each of the herbs thrice ere one work them, and on the apple also The manuscript’s word is galdor—the Old-English form of ON galdr—and the verb is sing. So the line does not merely say “say the spell”; it tells the healer to sing the galdr, i.e. perform a voiced, rhythmical incantation of the kind Germanic peoples called galdr. Translating it with the full loan-word keeps the cultural signal: Begin reciting at “Gemyne þu, mucgwyrt…” End after “…þonne ic þis attor of þe geblawe.” Why that block fits galdr-form • Strict two-stress half-lines with alliteration. • Formulaic openings (“Gemyne þu…”, “Fleoh þu nu…”, “Nu magon…”, “Gif ænig…”) — typical of incantation. • First-person divine brag, matching the galdr in Hávamál. • Catalogue structure (nine herbs, nine poisons, nine colours) — common in healing galdrar. |
| ond singe þon men in þone muð and in þa earan buta and on ða wunde þæt ilce galdor | and sing then into the man’s mouth and into the ears both and on the wound the same galdr The healer therefore performs the charm three times on the materials, and once more literally into the patient’s mouth, both ears, and onto the wound, sealing the treatment by sound as well as salve. |
| ær he þa sealfe on do | ere he the salve put on It’s the marathon of Germanic incantations—nearly 70 metrical half-lines strung together before you even touch the salve! Most surviving galdrar are single stanzas; here the poet stitches nine herb-invocations, Wōden’s serpent-smash, nine colour-poisons, four wind-wards, and a full-blown Odin brag into one continuous spell. No wonder the leech is told to “sing it three times over every herb”—the chant alone is almost a treatment in itself. |
I hope you enjoy, and if this helps you in your quest to save the world, please don’t forget us little people.10
_____________________________________
- Wondertwin powers! Activate! ↩︎
- Water-cress. I chose to keep her original name here for poetic reasons. ↩︎
- He did so gloriously. ↩︎
- Could also be purple-red or just plain blue. Apparently this shade area around purple depended on the eye of the beholder – kind of like some colors today. ↩︎
- If you’re walking with me on this journey, you may have heard me mention that when I was… aaah.. troubled by spirits and gods, pitch pulling became a thing. I had tracked various colors of pitch. I was overly excited to see the poem *had the damn colors in it* and the effects I’d tracked. I knew there were more colors than I’d seen, and there I see all these freaking COLORS… so that when I noticed that white and dark were the same poison, maddening, I elected to take two different meanings of maddening and attribute them as per the pitch. Feel free to put “crazy poison” or “poison that drives one nuts” or “brain poison” as you prefer. ↩︎
- Suggested substitution – “I, Wōden, stood over all sickness.” ↩︎
- The problem with this part is that the word used is literally flowing water. Clearly he’s referencing Yggdrasil, but we only know water flows out of it for sure. From what I was told and have ever seen, the translations are a mix from river to stream. It’s flowing water, that I know. It’s poetic. I kept it. ↩︎
- The Ansuz rune, Odin’s breath, comes to mind here. ↩︎
- I can’t be the only one whose noticed this, but if so than I was here first! Me me me!!! :-p ↩︎
- Ai generated snippet when it was picking on me:
(Spoken, with a slow, deep rhythm, like the opening of “Big Bad John”)
“Came a time when the world was ailin’ bad, From a single great serpent, the worst we ever had. Its poison breath was a sickness on the breeze, Droppin’ good folk and cattle to their knees… A singular evil, a venomous blight… Then through the grey dawn came a wanderin’ light.”
(Chorus, with that driving “Big John! Big John!” beat)
“Wōden! (Wōden!) Big, Wise Wōden! (Wōden!)” ↩︎
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