In might a man, a youth in years 
 Of hoisters bound
 Swift, long maned steeds under the thigh of a handsome youth
 There shall not be enmity between me and you
 Better shall I do for you, to praise you in song
 Quicker to the field of blood than to a wedding
 Quicker to the ravens feast than to a burial 

 [bad word] song of a noble host
 sound of fire and thunder and flood time
 Excelling in courage, a horseman in the turmoil 
 blood shedding reaper, he longed for war
 The warrior [bad word] to battle in what ever land he heard tidings 
 With his shield on his shoulder he would take up a spear
 As if it were sparkling wine from glass vessels

 Warriors went to Goddodin
 Fresh mead was their feast
 It was bitter
 Warriors went to Gatike
 Loud like thunder
 Harsh in battle
 Spears in array
 Warriors went to Gatike
 Embattled with a cry

 Swords

 Shields 

 Spears

 Blades

 Mead

 Blood
 (Test Dept. & Brith Gof)