In Valhalla’s hall of thunder, Where the roof is forged of gold, The Valkyries walk in silence Through the ranks of warriors old. Their cloaks are woven midnight, Their spears are threads of dawn; They move like winter’s whisper, Across an endless, waiting lawn. They gather souls like embers Still warm from battle’s flame, Lifting each with solemn honor, Calling each by secret name. The fallen rise before them—No blood, no wound, no fear;Only the echo of their courage Ringing bright and ringing clear. And the Valkyries, fierce and gentle, Guide them through the shining door Where feasting fires roar eternal And swords sing forevermore. So the chosen stand in glory, Freed from mortal dust and pain, While the Valkyries return to battle To gather the brave again.