The Crusher bereft,
Asgard in peril.
They will soon march,
on the bridge of flames,
to sow their mischief,
misery and destruction.

Njord's daughter
was the prize,
the thurses lord desired.
No wights may hold,
Vingthor's hammer,
unless she was brought,
as a bride for Thrym.

There then he,
the White god,
suggested to bring the Thunderer,
to the thurses lord,
under the guise of Freyja.

Lightning then cracked,
as the slayer of etins protested,
profane and craven would he be,
if busked in bridal linen,
and went to the wild world,
of the etins as a bride.

There then he,
the Sly One,
quelled the furious one,
and pleaded to heed his words;
the etins will dwell in Asgard,
if hammer is not fetched,
from Giant world.

Hlorrithi now convinced,
there was no other choice.
As a bride he will then go,
to be presented to Thrym,
only if Wolf's Father,
went along as a maiden.

After eight nights,
they finally arrived.
Thrym took note,
of his delicate bride's,
brutish feasting on ox,
and gulping of mead.
Unfit these manners are,
for that of a dainty bride.

There then he,
the Sly One,
deceived the thurses lord,
by telling him Freyja naught ate,
nor drank for eight nights,
eager she was to meet him.

His doubts now quelled,
he then ordered the Crusher,
to be brought and laid on,
the blushing bride's lap.
Laughing as loud as thunder,
he then gripped the Hammer,
and a bright flash blinded,
Vingthor stood mighty,
and strong.

He then struck Thrym,
the skull exploded,
and painted the etins crimson.
Laughing all the while,
Thor slew every Jotun in the room.
The Hammer was now home,
Asgard was safe at last.