Sif will not recover a single hair,
Bald-headed for aye she’ll remain.
“If thou wilt forgive my frolic this bout,
(’Twas a sorry frolic, I own,)
Why then I swear by leek and by crout,[43]
By the moss on the Bauta-stone,[44]
“By Odin’s[45] eye, and by Mimer’s fountain,
By thy hammer and golden car,
I’ll straight descend to the caves of the mountain,
To the dwarfs, who my vassals are.