Hail Thor who truly shines in the heavens,
glint of Sunna reflecting off the golden wheels
of your goat-drawn carriage, billowy beard
blowing in the breeze, sparks shooting from
your glowing hot hammer gripped in invincible
iron gloves, strength enhanced by your mighty belt
and cheeks flushed from Óðr’s wine, gulped down
at the start of your journey as you set out to slay
the murky horde of wicked Wights and gnarly Ents
assembled against the impregnable walls
of gleaming Ásgarðr. Ride on, O Strider
ever in defense of all that is good, holy and true,
and know that this household stands with you
and shall never let your shrine be barren of offerings.