Based on Cyprus 1986
There's a feast of frost no-one knows
During winter season, at half moon
Colder, but in July/June
You'll miss out, and sleep at higher cost
My friend Helga sent my by post
"Come next year, Elpida, you foodie"
An invitation, goodie!
Packed my coat, left Athens, here I go
Þorra, Þorrablót
Don't do the Ring Road
Stay in town and skip the northern lights tour
Þorra, Þorrablót
Eat till you explode
From the buffet stuffed with Þorramatur
Some of the unique offers are
Fat of whale from Húnaþing Vestra
Moistened like days ancestral
With sour milk inside a stuffy jar
There's a slice of jellied sheep's toe
Lamb's blood bread, a haddock's dried spleen and
Hákarl, a shark from Greenland
Left to rot inside a dirty hole
Þorra, Þorrablót
Boiled head of a goat
Do not let its hollow look disgust you
Þorra, Þorrablót
Liver mixed with oats
Odour takes a minute to adjust to
Ovine, ovine, ovine testicles
Are still boiling in the kettle, bring them now-now-now-now
All the, all the, all the cats are gone
Well they must be in the cake, I'll eat it now-now-now-now
Þorra, Þorrablót
Sickness to your throat?
Wash it down with Brennivín, like car fuel
Þorra, Þorrablót
Also, I must note:
It's okay to cough out swallowed down wool
Þorra, Þorrablót
"Vile" is a wrong quote
Written by a tasteless Brit, I'm quite sure
Þorra, Þorrablót
Do it again? Totes
This is the most magical of nætur