[Intro]
[Clean twelve-string guitar plays the original oath harmony beneath the complete tagelharpa motif.]

[Verse 1]
We reached the gate in thawing rain,
With fewer feet upon the lane.
The widow’s lamp still marked the sill;
She watched us climb and waited still.
We brought the sword, the bowl, the gold,
The torn boar cloth in careful folds.
No cheer rose up, no questions ran.
Astrid looked behind each man.

[Chorus]
One Cup for the Dead, let no name disappear,
Pour it beside us as though they still hear.
One Cup for the Dead, one place at the board,
Not for a victory, not for a lord.
One Cup for the Dead while the winter withdraws;
Memory carries what vengeance never restores.

[Verse 2]
The high seat lay beneath grey ash,
Its carved arms split by fire and axe.
We swept the floor but left one stain
Deep in the long board’s darkened grain.
The bronze bowl would not sit upright,
Its wounded rim leaned from the light.
We set it by the hearth once more;
No hand could make it what it was before.

[Verse 3]
We hung the banner on the beam,
Burned half beside the golden seam.
No needle hid the charcoal edge;
The wound became the cloth’s new pledge.
Astrid brought the wooden boar
Eirik had left upon the floor.
She placed it where his cup had stood,
Small, unfinished, pale with wood.

[Instrumental Break]
[Tagelharpa, clean guitar, and low lead guitar repeat the motif in three different registers.]

[Bridge]
We named the loyal and the damned,
The servants by the door.
Memory must carry truth,
And leave the dead uncrowned.

[Break]
I poured one cup for Eirik’s chair.
The smell of malt rose warm in air.
I did not ask him to forgive.
The dead owe nothing to those who live.

[Build-up]
Then fists came down—not hard, not proud,
But one by one across the crowd.
No boast of blood, no victor’s claim;
Each strike gave weight to those not there.

[Final Chorus]
One Cup for the Dead, let no name disappear,
Pour it beside us; their choices live here.
One Cup for the Dead, one place at the board,
Not for our vengeance, not for a lord.
As winter withdraws beneath smoke-blackened beams,
The oath remains broken, yet lives in what it means.

[Outro]
[All instruments stop; communal voices continue without accompaniment.]

Raise no horn to claim we won.
Count the cost of what was done.
Guard the table. Question pride.
Speak the names we cannot hide.

[Coda]
[One bronze bowl strike sounds as smoke leaves the roof at dawn.]

The roof breathed smoke into the sun.
The song began where war was done.
Oak may split and iron rust.
Remember whom you choose to trust.
