As I woke up one Sunday morning
My goat was gone without warning
The urge to kill appeared
So instead to the good church I steered
Amidst the reading of the Epistle and Gospel
The hammer I forged of my thrice stolen bell
I drive it into the eye of Vigfader
I drive it into the eye of Valfader
I drive it into the eye of Asator
What once was mine always returns to me
I temper the tool with my blood
Hot from the anvil, a copper stud
Painting his features on pieces of paper
No remorse, his eyes will be vapor
I steady the nail on his skull
Oh, his wretched ways will soon be culled
And with every single blow of my hammer
Those ill-gotten dreams I shall thoroughly shatter
I drive it into the eye of Vigfader
I drive it into the eye of Valfader
I drive it into the eye of Asator
What once was mine always returns to me