Dødens Grøde - Khold

Milde vinder raskt til bris

Sender aks på flyktig vis

Smyger over traurig åker

Sørger for at sorte engler våker

Mesteren bak dødens grøde

Legger landet langsomt øde

Korn sprer onde, sykdom, skader

Høsten ofrer fall i lange rader

Jorden råtner, livet svinner

Plagen river alle grinder

Fe og folk blir revet bort

Mesteren har vunnet alle kort

Mild winds quickly to breeze

Transmits ears in a fleeting way

Sneaks across sad fields

Makes black angels watch

The master behind the crop of death

Laying the land slowly desolate

Grain spreads evil, disease, injury

Autumn sacrifices fall in long rows

The earth rots, life disappears

The plague tears all the gates

Fairies and people are torn away

The champion has won all the cards