For Hel
by Ian Brokaw
Goddess of sickness and death herself
Hel, Daughter of the lord of lies
In your realm there's no need for wealth
Emblem of pain, sin, and death
Your hall houses all the poor souls
Who sadly breathed their last breath
You roam on your three legged mare
Sweeping away villages
Not a single life to spare
You fear not the living man
The grim skeleton keeps them out
Unless fresh blood fills the pan
