Fanitullen (historie) Chords

In our Ferteljard tradition, it is told of a wedding at a farm in the village from the late 1600s.
And the following scene is from the third day.
It was a wonderful guest house, with a lot of good food and drink, with music and singing and dancing most of the time.
But then there was a stop.
_ The playman put down the fiddle, because now other things were to take place.
_ There were two men, two strong men, who had fallen into disarray.
There was old hatred and revenge for the fiddle, which had bloomed in the rose.
_ Now it was time to decide, _ and that with a belt tension.
_ We handed the word to the priest and poet Jørgen Mo.
_ _ _ In those hard days, when with beer and sword, the blade of the sword was loose in his sword,
when the women of Gilde brought the bedclothes, where they could lay their house down,
there stood a bloody wedding in the Hemsedal a place, where play and dance was silenced and the men fought.
In the middle of the floor, in the man's ring, there were two men with drawn knives and a belt around them.
_ And as the opponents were resting, _ there were four more men in the ring around them.
They raised the light of the fire, and the _ _ _ rye was gathered to a roaring team.
_ The women were forced to come forward, to break the iron, which was placed in front of them.
They were thrown back, by strong men, and the man played calmly, going to the basement stairs.
_ _ Now he was going down to the victorious man, who could slowly kiss the edge of the ball.
In the belt tension, only the blood was taken, which over the thighs was filled from the skull of the man.
But when he stood in the basement, he saw a blue light.
_ One was sitting there on the throne, tuning his fiddle, _ and the man held it upside down,
close to the chest, and began to play, as soon as he had tuned.
_ It was a game like a duel.
It sounded like the words of a madman, like a blow from a steel car, and like a blow to the table.
It was cheering and howling in the dark basement hall, where the castle's tones ended with a roaring man's fall. _
The man played the fiddle, listening to the mighty run.
It was like a game, the whirls, where the back was bent.
Then he asked the other, where did you learn that tune?
He answered, it is the same, but less in the blue.
_ Now the man lowered himself, and after the fall took, then he saw the horse's hoof, which, as the beat of the tongue, struck.
He forgot to run, he ran up to the living room.
_ There they lifted from the floor the fallen man's body. _ _
The man called himself a madman, and the fiddle played, and played well,
but the sound of the groaning tones under the beer and the whistling, then the horse's knife in the hall, the fiddle, slipped. _ _ _ _ _
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