Index | About | Mission | Vor Vegr | Resources | Contacts | Book Store | What's New |



Þe Piparskeggrsmal

Þus Far


Born 12 Lenting 2207


Piparskeggr Ullarsson





A beloved and respected part of the Elder (Poetic) Edda is the set of verses called the Havamal (Sayings of the High One), thought to be Odin’s words of advice to the Skald(s) who composed the words and set the rhymes.  The Havamal is like, I think, the advice one would receive at the knee of a beloved elder of one’s clan.  The following are little bits of verse I think are commonsensical, offered in that spirit I see in this Elder Lore and the collection will continue to grow the longer I live.


Þe Piparskeggrsmal

Born: 12 Lenting 2207


001 Listen young one, all words have worth

For good or ill, yours to decide

Heed them or not, but take them in

Tis wise to hear, tis wise to think


005 Eddas, Sagas, and Histories

Words of ink, on paper fine

Tell of the Gods, Men, Doom and Deeds

From Hela’s Deep to Æsgard’s Height


009 Unwieldy Words to express Thoughts

Of Heart’s True path, in Troth to Gods

Of Kin and Kith, and who they are

Of whether Blood, or Spirit tells


013 Rivers of Blood, into the Well

Within my soul, the Kinship Tie

Through all of Time, across all lands

Unbroken Bond, Burden of Bones


017 Our forebears hands, reach out to us

And give the Horn, into our grasp.

They look upon, our efforts Trú

With knowing nod, and easy grin.


021 The Folk are few, but many too

Within, without, the Elder Troth

Blood and Spirit, makes them ours

No matter which, byway they tread


025 Do Ties of Birth, Bind tight and best

To Forebears Old, and Holy Ones

Will Web of Words, suffice in Deed

To bridge the Gap, to Gain in Wyrd





029 Wyrd can be thought, a spider grey

Weaving all lives, within her web

Our deeds glisten, like morning dew

Then falling down, renew the Well


033 A man of Faith, and Troth with Gods

Who stands at Blót, to Worship give

Sits at Sumbel for Gielp and Beot

And LIVES his life, not little bits


037 I only know, that I believe

In Faithful Troth, to Holy Ones

My Words and Deeds, with Rightful Wit

Do shape myself and build Orlay


041 To know a God, is goodly thing

Except, perhaps, when it is not

To know oneself, is best of all

For meaning comes, from deep within


045 The Holy Ones are Gifting Folk

Providing all that Man shall need

Unless, of course, we do not work

Mortal effort brings room and board


049 By Gift of Blót and strength of Deed

Our Kinship ties with Holy Ones

Are forged anew and tempered true

And build Orlay within the Well


053 To those you love give words of thanks

When living ears can drink them in

Regretful tears may water weeds

But Kinfolk dead find them no use


057 Our task is not, to mourn the Dead

It is to live, to carry on

Remember Deeds, both proud and dark

Their Thoughts and Acts, becoming us


061 Community ties, exist for all

On lonesome farm, in bustling town

In Kin and Kith, we gain full joy

From helping hands, and shared ideas




065 Our Bond with Life, comes from the Land

From leaf and twig, from root and branch

In stream and rock, and hill and sky

In every breath, in every place


069 Cold road is harsh, and rarely first

In our esteem, o’er welcome warm

But time may come, when open door

Is a trap for, unwary one


073 Upon new road, troubles may rise

If setting forth, with fearful heart,

Well-ordered mind, well-ordered skills

Will shield against, the unforeseen


077 Burden they bore, burden they bear

Men and Women, Warriors all

Guarding the Weal, of Kin and Kith

Answering the Call, to Duty do


081 The truly brave, it has been said

Are blind of eye to danger's threat

This is not so, they clearly see

And seeing, still, perform their Deeds


085 Wise is the man, who comes to know

Mindset and deeds, of harmful men

Better to gain, useful insight

Then blindly strive, in future strife


089 They also serve, who stand and fear,

Who start at shades, and raise alarm,

Who tremble fast, and see the wolf

Ever in heart, of small offense


093 Good humored sense, will armor mind

With calming thought, that pierces doubt

This strengthened sense, will riddles solve

And overcome, any ordeal


097 Two eyes have we, with which to look

And fingers ten, with which to write

The power to, forge weight of words

Can overwhelm, our strength of sight




101 Our wordsmiths grand, and common too

Gain place by hearth and in our hearts

For by their words, we grasp full lives

Of rightful deed and honor's pride


105 A wordsmith he, must be full bold

And sound his horn in fulsome blast

A poet shy will fade away

An honored name by bold one gained


109 The work of words, is like the wind

Can bitter sting, or softly soothe

Set teeth a-grind, will smiles raise

Bring death and harm, set love a-wing


113 Worthy Words give to Worthy Hearts

A base of Lore for Right and Might

In Teaching Hof and Loving Home

It matters not, who gives the thoughts


117 The strength of deeds, builds up repute

Like piled leaves, on forest floor

As granite blocks, in fortress wall

Like well-kept vows, in wedded life


121 A man should do, the needful task

In time at hand, and with good will

A proper Thew, for good of Kin

Should not be thought, unusual


125 An unlearned craft, is enemy

When need is great, to do the thing

T’is good to strive, at something new

A man should have, fulsome skill hoard


129 A crafty mind is but a tool

Used by the hands of yearning heart

A gateway for the searching soul

To worthy words it needs to speak


133 A House Bond should, within the hearts

Of Man and Wife, be fully forged

For weddings vows, bind tight and fast

Within the Well, before the Gods




137 True House Bond should, be based on Frith

With room for Love, and honest warmth

And angry words, twixt man and wife

Should not be let, in halls of sleep


141 Friendships of youth, seem hard and fast

Forever True, unfading strength

Come from bright blush, of growing hearts

Immortal bonds, destined to fade


145 Hunter and Prey, joined by the Kill

Tis a small part, within the Hunt

To seek to know, the animal

Its Life and Ways, that is the Art


149 Who lives to eat, or eats to live

Can pleasure gain, from each pursuit

For from the stove, and on the board

We find the fruits, of cook’s good work


153 Hunting and War, their true skill lies

In knowing heart, of prey or foe

In matching wits, in winning out

Returning home, with meat or gain


157 On battlefield, in face of foe

Killing can be, a needful thing

A lust for blood, no man should have

It dulls the soul, and kills the heart


161 Sometimes a man, must lose his way

To find Trú road, to Hearth and Home

For being lost, forces the mind

To bearings find, to gain the goal


165 Not every man, a Lord can be

Nor every man, a Ceorl stays

So Thanes abound, and Stewards, too

The middle ground, community's strength


169 Embodies he, the Luck of Land

The Sacral King, before some Tribes

The Gods see him, and smile on

This Guardian, of his folk’s Wyrd




173 Mind ‘s reach should have, no bounds in search

For meaning, wit, riddles to solve

To seek and think, are greatest skills

In mankind’s grasp, oftimes unused


177 Spirit, perhaps, has ingrained roads

To follow in, the search for Troth

From Blood and Bone, to Home and Hearth

Though sometimes Mind, thinks different


181 A chosen friend, can brother be

Picked by our heart, and Mind and Hand

His Word and Deed, and humor, too

Is like unto, another me


185 My brother he, chosen gladly.

Bound by Wyrd tides, full strong and good

Someone with whom, I laugh and cry

Someone for whom, I’d gladly strive


189 Comes a sad day, when friend has died

The final ride, Doomfaring forth

Upon Helroad, blazing a trail

Prepare for me, I’ll join thee soon


193 Through great Ordeal, we come to know

Full measure of, our Goal’s True Worth

If trials dark, stand in the way

And become walls, before the Prize


197 In these Ordeals, we find our Steel

Our Might and Main, Our Inner Strength

We will win out, and prove to self

Significance of well-sought Deed


201 In anger red, one loses Mind

Control of Self and Sense of Right

A dire place, to stand and rage

Tis off-putting, a loathsome state


205 Unfettered rage, is dead end path

And better ways, to make things right

Do come to mind, when Will wins out

Berserkers Way, works not in Garth




209 Past word and deed, new word and deed,

Which is real thing, and which is false?

The one I knew, and did not know,

Who is real man, and who is false?


213 Ritual done, without Trú Heart

Is hollow play, upon a stage

To mouth some words, and move about

Is but an act, a mummer’s jest


217 With no set rites, a Faithful Heart

Can be full of, truest worship

A Sense of Troth, is golden core

For Bond with Gods, in worthy life


221 When Trothful Heart and ritual

Combine in one, ‘tis something grand

True Sacral Time, is made by them

Honoring all, who come to Blót


225 In Blóting rite, and effort Trú

We honor Gods, with Right Good Will

Raise our voices, in bright, fair praise

And share some Drink, which hands have made


229 My life is one, extended Blót;

Sometimes well done, and sometimes not.

But Troth is there, and honor, too,

And Faithful Words flow from my heart


233 I can’t not do, but write my words

And frame my verse, and hum my tunes,

For something pulls, and pushes me,

Within my heart, within my soul


237 And Worship they, my words, become

For Holy Ones and Living Worth,

A Blót rite small, upon a page,

A Blót writ large, within my heart


241 Unknown It is, the Source of All,

Unknowable, by mind of man,

Except, perhaps, in Faithful sense;

We know our Troth, it is enough




245 Our Holy Ones, descend from That,

Which came before, the Start of Time,

Ginungagap, Fire and Ice

A Primal Cause, from Unseen Hand


249 Our Mannish Troth, to Holy Ones,

Is effort to, Honor belief,

In Their being, and Their Power,

And hope that They, smile on us


253 Our efforts to, understand Wyrd,

Come out in Lore, Poetic Words,

Are shaped by Faith, experience,

Are born in Dreams, fleshed out by Sight


257 All Lore did start, as someone’s thought,

Of How and Why, of Who and What,

From Sights within, from Mindfulness

All tales of Gods, were stories once


261 The Holy Ones, are within me,

And I do live, within Their Heart,

I am pulled in, to Their Orlay,

And pushed to do, and build my own


265 The Gods will speak, with whom They will,

In many ways, both fair and harsh,

In small still voice, or grand display,

Their Words are sent, some understand


269 And men will hold, to whom they will,

By Word and Deed, By Blood and Bone,

Tribal Bond is, by Wyrd and Choice,

Within Old Ways, within New Clans


273 Mistakes are made, by every man,

But worst is to, acknowledge not,

When wrong you are, own up to it,

A wound tended, right quick, heals best


277 To truly grow, in wit and mind

One must add to, one’s knowledge hoard

Who does not learn, and flex his brain

Will stunted be, in Wisdom’s Hall




281 To call the Gods in needful ways

Will bring Clan luck, will help Man gain

But vacant Words, half-hearted Blót

Will raise Ill-Wyrd, may bring dark Doom


285 When calling Gods, be sure of self

Be clear in Mind, have Right Good Will

To gain Their Sight, when need is false

Does harm the Luck, and lessens Weal


289 When ill meant acts, do cross your path

Defend yourself, with all your might

Use every skill, at your command

Until the foe, lies still on ground


293 In aftermath call on the Law

To show that you, acted in Right

Responded hard, responded well

To one who did, mean to do harm


297 Our kinship with, the Holy Ones

Is like unto, our family ties

They are elder, members of clan

The Holy Wights, at head of Line


301 A small lamp should, light every door

To guide Folk Home, in welcoming

A beacon bright, on heart’s pathway

To goodly hearth, and Kinship Bond


305 Turning of years, flows by all lives

Through night and day, good times and bad

From birth to death, perhaps beyond

Learning, growing, becoming full


309 Our Deeds and Words, spin strands of Fate

And weave into, the Tale of All

From doing right, to spreading ill

Actions build up, our true Orlay


313 It’s said that none live more than Now

Ever present in Becoming

Our time it is to be our best

And seize our chance and live right full




317 I shall face death, when it becomes

Another road, to travel down

Beyond that gate, may lie ordeal

Beyond that gate, may lie reward


321 Helroad beckons, to everyone

Tis natural, an end to life

We’ll find our worth and find our Truth

Go to Gods or, become again


325 May come a time, when death is best

When body’s broke, or mind is gone

Final Mercy, by self or friend

A loving cure for ill wrought woe


329 Not everyone a friend will be

That does agree with all my words

Not everyone a foe will be

That disagrees, but keeps the Frith


333 A mortal life, a space of time

Less than blink of, a Godly eye

To become such, and then Ascend

Would this then be, a Sacrifice


337 To seek the mind, behind the mask

Within the fog, of distant voice

Where words are heard, and Deeds unseen

Is well-born goal, to knowledge gain


341 Hot forge of Life, burns away dross

Bringing to fore, trueness of heart

Proving one’s worth, inner metal

Shiny as steel, deadly dull lead


345 The Kingly walk, amongst us still

Know to a few, or known to all

Raised on the Shield, or just in mind

Their Worth is there, bound up in Wyrd


349 Tis seemly we, do think our thoughts

About our faith, our life, our ways

And frame out thoughts, and say our piece

Then listen well, to other’s voice





353 Tis fine to write, and good to read

Each other’s words, of weal and wit

Lettered exchange, is useful tool

To gain a start, towards friendship


357 But words of ink, and words of light

Are but small threads, in skeins of Wyrd

The hands we clasp, the sights we share

These are the best cord of the Weave


361 In every hall, haranguers spout

Bitter of word, scathing of thought

Offering much, by way of NAY

They little do, to better show


365 They hurry to, point out a fault

And disagree, with given thought

They yammer on, why you are wrong

But never prove, why they are right


369 Like termites which, timbers infest

They gnaw and chew, leave dust behind

They eat into, the stoutest heart

Which may then fall, when Ordeal comes


373 When choice is made, twixt love and hate

To gain control, of inner self

To become calm, and strong and wise

Tis thus we grow, as full adults


377 On kin’s behalf, we must take stand

Against others, from time to time

Tis normal thing, this loyalty

Tis passing strange, to disagree


381 To build is best, for commonweal

To make a Gift, which rides the years

Twill last our lives and far beyond

This Folkway dear, its Thews and Forms


385 We are Makers and we are Made

We are the Lords, of our own souls

Yet Holy Ones and Wyrd give rings

Of Will and Mind, forged by Orlay





389 We earn our rings, by Word and Deed

In Blóting Rite and household chore

They are a Gift, this humanness

But not enough, if without Heart


393 Madness can come, to anyone

When Will and Mind, are overwrought

These tools we have, can become dulled

If thrust too much, gainst inner doubts


397 Young man come look, into mirror

My face, your face, alike and not

My eyes are old, your eyes are new

I’m where I am, I’m where you’ll be


401 Look in my face, look in my eyes

And you shall see, young man, yourself

For time grinds all, within its mill

And none escape, its wearing grasp


405 We talk and talk, about Life’s Worth

What matters most, to build Orlay

In Heart and Mind, and Will and Soul

In Word and Deed, Live Right each day


409 One’s Past is built, in days survived

Each one alone, and added up

All that we do, drops from the Tree

Refreshing Well, from our Lives’ Time


413 Many a book, is good to see

Gilt edged and fine, seemingly best

But sometimes the pages therein

Do contain cess, fit for trash pit


417 The mountains give no heed at all

To Deeds of men, days of our lives

Their thoughts are old and dark and dense

Of worldly weight and slow to shape


421 A young man lives, a young man’s life

Does young man’s Deeds, speaks young man’s Words

Sometimes his wit does well by him

Sometimes it seems, he’s still a boy




425 Every man is capable of

Performing Deeds, fair and foul

Their Weight in Well, will tell in end

If Life was Worth, the air he breathed


429 Through sweat of brow, by Luck of Land

The farmer turns, black earth, warm rain

Into a crop, food for the Folk

We all owe him, a debt of Thanks


433 My love is wrought for Kin and Kith

Whose lives touch mine, as mine does theirs

Our Deeds and Words, do build a Bond

In Heart and Mind, it strengthens us


437 Other folks gain, honor, respect

Less personal, but no less real

For when we meet and when we speak

They touch me, too, but not the same


441 So many things within my sight

Only two eyes to look at them

They see a lot but don't see all

Two windows wide, but just one mind


445 Everywhere cracks, seem to appear

In stuff of Wyrd, in mind of Man

Thews loosen hold, Wolf howls loud

Heimdall inhales, Doom Horn to blow


449 Too long we’ve slept, the Folk of North

Too long we’ve wept, in shame not ours

Oh Sons of Earth arise and stand

The time has come, for daring Deed