His horns are white as the snow
And he makes a loud sound.
His feet are big as dog’s, his legs like trees,
The hair stands out on his breast and his back
He drinks the river dry and swims in the lake.
He must die; he must move no more;
On the plain he must die, in the wood;
In the lake; Ogga must have his horns.
Where comes the Mover? He is born of the Ice.
He has come from Zit, Where goes the Mover?