Okay, I hate to do this to you all, but how about this version....

Once a horned Viking sat beside a gray fjord,
Under the head of the noon day sun,
And he sang as he beat his tiny head against a tree,
Living with Hilda is no longer fun.

Living with Hilda, living with Hilda,
Living with Hilda is driving me mad,
And he sang as he beat his tiny head against a tree,
Rattling the brains that he no longer had.

Once she was beauteous, flaxen-haired and raven-eyed,
Now that the flower of her youth has gone.
Now it takes 3 years just to walk around her girth,
I'm no prize either, but don't put me on.

(Chorus again)

I am NOT the author, just the poster. I am not aware of the author; the song was heard at a Society for Creative Anachronism event many, many years ago.

Just had to throw it in there...

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 13-Jan-02.