File:Sigurboði - Gróttasöngr Icelandic + English Lyrics (Skaldic Poetry & Norse Mythology)

Gróttasöngr is the last eddic poem and my favourite. Gróttasöngr is the work song of two female slave trolls Fenja and Menja bought in Sweden by the Danish King Fróði. The girls are brought to a magic grindstone to grind out wealth for the king and sing for his household. The girls ask for rest from the grinding but are commanded to continue. They sang a song which reached their Uncle Mysingr. Mysingr kills Fróði but now demands them to grind salt. They grind so much salt for him that his ship is filled to the brim which then sinks, which is the reason the sea is salty.

Lyrics: Sofið eigi en of sal gaukar eða lengr en svá ljóð eitt kveðak.

Var-at-tu, Fróði, fullspakr of þik, málvinr manna, er þú man keyptir; kaustu at afli ok at álitum, en at ætterni ekki spurðir

Harðr var Hrungnir ok hans faðir, þó var Þjazi þeim öflgari; Iði ok Aurnir, okkrir niðjar, bræðr bergrisa, þeim erum bornar.

Veltum grjóti of garð risa, svá at fold fyrir fór skjalfandi; svá slöngðum vit snúðga-steini, höfga-halli, at halir tóku.

Fram heldum því þau misseri, at vit at köppum kenndar várum; þar sorðu vit skörpum geirum blóð ór benjum ok brand ruðum.

Nú erum komnar til konungs húsa miskunnlausar ok at mani hafðar; aurr etr iljar, en ofan kulði, drögum dolgs sjötul, daprt er at Fróða.

English Translation by Henry Adams Bellows: Sleep ye not longer than the gowks round the house, or than while one song I sing

Thou wast not, Fróði for thyself over-wise, or a friend of men, when thralls thou boughtest; for strength thou chosest them, and for their looks, but of their race didst not inquire.

Stout was Hrungnir, and his father, yet was Þjassi stronger than they ; Iði and Aurnir our relations are, brothers of the mountain-giants from whom we are born.

We rolled the stone o'er the giants' house, so that earth thereby shrank trembling; so hurled we the whirling rock, that men could take it.

Thus we went on all those winters, so that in conflicts we were known; there we carved, with our sharp spears, blood from wounds, and reddened brands.

Now are we come to a king's house, unpitied both, and in thraldom held; gravel gnaws our feet, and above 'tis cold; a foe's host we draw. Sad 'tis at Fróði's!

Get on Bandcamp: https://sigurbodi.bandcamp.com/releases

Get on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/0bnzsA...

Out on all major platforms inculding iTunes GooglePlay, YouTube Music, Amazon Music, Tidal, Deezer and many more