A Nordic Folk-song

I was fortunate enough to record this song one evening in an inn, as the merchant caravan I traveled with rested. One of the guards produced what I believe is called a nickel harp, and began to play a steady, droning melody. The other guards began to sing; bittersweet harmonies, rough but emotional. The chorus is in the Nordic vernacular, which I have translated to the best of my ability, but I could swear I have heard the tune elsewhere, possibly on the docks in Anvil. -Caoran Fiascian, U. Gwylim

Oh, the Hoar-king's beard grows thick and white,

Leggja af stað, Jónas,

As the dawn's first rays break through the night,

We sail homeward on, to Skyrim.

Leggja af stað, Jónas, (Be going onward, Jonas)

Sumarið flýgur og Það er timið vorum heim, (Summertime flies, and it's time we were home)

Vetur kemur brað i Monahven, (Winter comes soon enough to Skyrim)

The sea-ghosts blew and the waves ran high,

Leggja af stað, Jónas,

From Windhelm all the way to Stros M'kai,

We sail onward, back to Skyrim.

Leggja af stað, Jónas, etc...

We tear onward home, through storm and squall,

Leggja af stað, Jónas,

For there's kin and mead within our halls,

We sail homeward on, to Skyrim.

Leggja af stað, Jónas, etc...

Fly you home to kinfolk, while you can,

Leggja af stað, Jónas,

When evgir unslaad begins again,

We'll sail far away from Skyrim...

Leggja af stað, Jónas,

Sumarið flýgur og Það er timið vorum heim,

Vetur kemur brað i Monahven.