[Intro][Quick wooden flute over foot-stomps and clipped acoustic chords in seven-beat phrases.]

[Verse 1: Narrator, weathered male baritone]
We walked where the whale-road ended in loam,
Past ribs of a ship and stones of a home.
Alder and rowan had covered the track,
Green on the front and fire-marked black.
Mushrooms rose through a helmet's eye,
Bees built a court where the jarls once lay.
Each crooked root had lifted a stone,
In the country where no hand had sown.

[Chorus: Survivors, mixed ensemble]
Where No Hand Had Sown, the greenwood grew,
Fed by the rain and the morning dew.
No prayer gave order, no horn was blown,
Still leaf joined branch, still seed found loam.
We came as survivors, proud and alone—
Then bowed to the land where no hand had sown.

[Verse 2: Narrator, weathered male baritone]
Vah-lee found apples beside a wall,
Red as the shields in his father's hall.
He bit through the skin; the juice ran clear,
Sweet without tribute, ripe without fear.
Vee-tharr spared every sapling row,
And watched the foxglove bend and grow.
A woodpecker hammered a measured refrain,
Three notes of promise through bark and rain.

[Chorus: Survivors, mixed ensemble]
Where No Hand Had Sown, the greenwood grew,
Fed by the rain and the morning dew.
No prayer gave order, no horn was blown,
Still leaf joined branch, still seed found loam.
We came as survivors, proud and alone—
Then bowed to the land where no hand had sown.

[Instrumental Break][Wooden flute leads a seven-beat folk dance while tagelharpa and low guitar repeat the transformed three-note motif.]

[Verse 3: Narrator, weathered male baritone]
Deep in a clearing, a sapling stood,
Twisted around one spear of wood.
The shaft bore Odin's weathered sign,
But living bark had crossed each line.
The rune for power was split by grain,
The rune for victory drowned in rain.
Vee-tharr pulled neither root nor spear—
Some lessons grow when left right here.

[Bridge: Narrator, reflective]
What if the world was never a steed
Waiting for bridle, command and need?
The forest answered without a sound:
Life is not lost when control is not found.

[Build-up][The seven-beat rhythm straightens as the drums broaden and communal voices enter.]

[Final Chorus: Survivors, mixed ensemble, full power]
Where No Hand Had Sown, the greenwood grew,
Fed by the rain and the morning dew.
No god gave order, no horn was blown,
Still root lifted ruin and moss covered bone.
We came as survivors, no longer alone—
The world was alive where no hand had sown.

[Outro: Narrator, unaccompanied]
Leave the spear standing,
Let bark cross the name.
The tree will remember
Without serving the game.
