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Þe Piparskeggrsmal Þus Far
Born 12 Lenting 2207 By Piparskeggr Ullarsson
1 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 2 029
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 3 065
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 4 101 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 5 137
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 6 173
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
7 209
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 8 245
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 9 281
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
10 317 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
11 353
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
12 389
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
13 425
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
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