Lyrics: Richard Wagner/Andrew Porter
Music: Richard Wagner
Hoho! Hoho! Hohi!
Forge me, my hammer,
a hard strong sword!
Hoho! Hahi!
Hoho! Hahi!
Your steely blue
once flowed with blood;
its ruddy trickling
reddened my blade;
cold laughter you gave,
the warm blood cooled on your heart!
Hiaho, haha,
hahiaha!
But now with fire
you redly gleam,
and your weakness yields
to my hammer’s blow.
Angry sparks you are showering
on me who conquers your pride!
Hiaho! Hiaho!
Hiahohoho!
Hahi!
He’s forging a bright, sharp sword.
Fafner will feel it
and meet his end.
I’ve brewed a deadly drink;
Siegfried will follow
when Fafner’s dead.
The ring will gain me the prize;
the ring and gold will be mine!
Hoho! Hoho!
Hahi!
Forge me, my hammer,
a hard strong sword!
Hoho! Hahi!
Hoho! Hoho!
This cheerful sparkling
delights my heart;
this flash of anger
suits well my blade.
Now you laugh at your lord,
though you pretend to be grim!
Hiaho, haha,
hahiaha!
Both heat and hammer
serve me well;
with sturdy strokes
I beat you straight.
Now banish your blush of shame,
and be cold and hard as you can.
Hiaho! Hiaho!
Hiahohoho!
Hiah!
Once my brother forged
a bright shining ring,
and in it he worked
a powerful spell.
That shining gold
will belong to me,
soon I will control it.
I’m master now!
Alberich too,
who made me slave,
will bend his knee
and beg for my grace;
as Nibelung prince,
all will obey me;
that Niblung band
will bow to me!
And the boy they despised
they will treat as a king!
All the heroes and gods
will respect my gold;
the world will cower
when I command;
they’ll beg my favour,
fearing my frown!
Notung! Notung!
Sword of my need!
You are fixed again firm in the hilt.
For me they’ll labour,
to make me rich.
Snapped into two,
once more you are whole;
no stroke again shall ever smash you.
For me they’ll labour,
to make me rich.
You broke when my father
was doomed to death;
his living son
forged you again:
for me now you laugh and shine
and your gleaming edge will be keen.
Mime the conqueror,
Mime is king now,
prince of the Niblungs,
lord of the world!
Notung! Notung!
Sword of my need!
To life once more I have waked you.
You lay there
so cold and dead,
but shine now defiant and fair.
Hi! Mime, you fortunate smith!
For who would believe such luck!
Let every traitor
quail at your gleam!
Strike at the false one,
strike at the rogue!
See, Mime, you smith:
so strong is Siegfried’s sword!