Oh, Let My Lord Laugh In His Halls When He The Tale Shall Tell! But Woe To Jarlwell And Its Walls When I Shall Laugh As Well! And He That Laughs The Last, Lads, Laughs Well, Laughs Well! He's Lord Of Many A Burg And Farm And Mickle Thralls And Gold, And I Am But My Own Right Arm, My Dwelling-Place The Wold. But When We Twain Meet Face To Face, He Will Hot Laugh So Bold. The Shame He Chuckles As He Shows This Time He Need Not Tell; I'll Give His Body To The Crows, And His Black Soul To Hell. For He That Laughs The Last, Lads, Laughs Well, Laughs Well!