(A Nordic Folk Ballad)
[Intro]
(Sound of a cold wind blowing. A low, vibrating cello drone begins. A slow, steady frame drum starts: THUMP-thump... THUMP-thump... like a heartbeat.)
[Verse 1]
(Vocal: Low, breathy, like a secret)
The hearth was warm, the Granny’s hands were old
She spun the wool to keep away the cold
But I was watching where the grey road ends
Waiting for the shape the distance sends
I kept your place, a chair beside the door
I traced your shadow on the wooden floor
A child’s heart is a compass, lost at sea
Pointing to a shore that could not be.
[Refrain - Old Norse Chant]
(Vocal: Multiple layered voices, haunting and rhythmic)
Móðir, kom heim... (Mother, come home)
Móðir, kom heim...
[Chorus]
(Vocal: Powerful and open, reaching for the mountains)
Oh, the North wind blows, the tides will turn
For a mother’s touch, the embers burn
Across the foam, through the salted haze
I spent the winter of my youngest days
Waiting for a ghost who hadn’t come
To lead the wandering spirit home.
[Verse 2]
(Instrumentation: The Nyckelharpa enters with a sharp, melodic bite. The drum gets louder.)
Then came the ship, the crossing of the blue
To a strange new soil, to finally stand by you
And in the shadow of a taller man
I found the roots to build a broken plan
He wasn't of my blood, nor of my name
But he fed the fire and he held the flame
The one who sired me was a morning mist
But this man held my world within his fist.
[Bridge]
(Instrumentation: All instruments stop suddenly. Only the wind and a faint, high-pitched fiddle remain.)
But even mountains crack when the frost is deep
And promises are debts we cannot keep
The hearth we built, it crumbled into stone
Once again, we faced the wild alone...
Two silhouettes against the rising white
Searching for a different kind of light.
[Verse 3]
(Instrumentation: The drum returns, but slower. More melodic and peaceful.)
The seasons shift, the old tracks fade away
A new hand leads us toward the coming day
The faces change like leaves upon the bough
But we are walking on a steady plow
I learned that "father" is a shifting word
A song of passage that I’ve finally heard
My mother’s hand is tucked inside my own
In every land, we’ve made ourselves a home.
[Outro]
(Vocal: Fading to a whisper)
The salt remains, the memories stay
The tide will wash the grief away
Eldstæðit brennr... (The hearth remains)
Eldstæðit brennr...
(Sound of a crackling fire that slowly fades into the sound of the sea.)
RoloLoco
