Then there came the hero Amos
Red his rod and red his ringlets
Dripping downward hiding fright-face
Hiding hideous halfling haunted
Gripping grimly a Gibson guitar
Quite at ready to marinate Martins.
This was Amos who fought the sea-mares
Fought the whale-fish fought the monster
Grendel's son hight Junior Grendel
Left him there sword-slashed and axe-cleaved
Long his mother weeped   o'er "Junie"
Long her eyes shed drops of salt-water
Until the Ocean rose itself up
Left its banks its meets and bounds
Leaving longships high on hillocks
Leaving longships moored on mountains
Heroes gon a-viking stranded 'til succumbed they to the sea.
Loud the weeping women mourned   mourned for men who'd come no more
Loud the keening of the kinder kith and kin killed by the waves.
Loud the cursing of dark Hela   adding rooms to her abode
For but few Valhalla-choosen   far but few heroes lived then
But for Amos him the hero who had caused this awful slaughter
Who had brought down Hela's wrath   her dark wrath up his head
She then cursed his Gibson guitar   her curse upon his fingers ten
Cursed to play a cursed Martin   or a cursed Apollonio
Cursed to play a Walmart Special left him cried forever more.

    --The Gruntersaga, ca. AD 784, trans. from Elder Erse, from
       runes of Skuffi Sigirdsdotter.