Translation of the song Balladen om Bjarkesnurr (traditionel version) [The Ballad of Flemmingrad (Traditional Version)] artist Olaf's Frozen Adventure (OST)

Der fandtes en trold med et fint renommé

There was a troll with a fine reputation

Han var rar, og hans svamp var som spejlblank glacé

He was nice and his fungus was like shiny gloss

Balladen om gamle Bjarkesnurr

The ballad of old Bjarkesnurr

Ja, alle små troldebørns yndlingsfigure

Well, all small troll children's favourite figure

De skænkede ham multebær, mos og lidt myg

They gave him cloudberries, moss, and some mosquitoes

Og han grovåd med ildhu og voksede sig tyk

And he devoured with enthusiasm and grew fat

Med tiden blev vor Bjarkesnurr

As time went, our Bjarkesnurr merely

Blot mæt og fik pondus og kuglekontur

Became full and became sizable and got his ball contour

Folk råbte, Se ham trille, trille, trille

People yelled, See him rolling, rolling, rolling

Han grinede, Se mig trille, trille rundt

He laughed, See me rolling, rolling around

Men da der kom men'sker, har trolde fortalt

But when humans arrived, trolls have told

Mig, de trillede på flugt mod et bjergpas så smalt

Me that they rolled towards a mountain pass so small

Men gode, gamle Bjarkesnurr

But good, old Bjarkesnurr

Sad fast med sin nu imponerende statur

Got stuck with his now impressive stature

Da bange, små men'sker, de trak deres sværd

When scared, small humans drew their swords

Smeltede Bjarkesnurr sammen med fjord, vind og vejr

Bjarkesnurr melted together with fjord, wind, and weather

Balladen om gamle Bjarkesnurr

The ballad of old Bjarkesnurr

Det' trist at gro fast, selv i Guds frie natur

It's sad to grow stuck, even in God's free nature

Klemt, men ikke glemt

Wedged but not forgotten

Fordi han ikk' ku trille, trille, trille

Because he couldn't roll, roll, roll

Åh, Bjarke, prøv at trille, trille rundt

Åh, Bjarke, try rolling, rolling around

Og derfor har vi den her tradition

And that's why we have this tradition

Her i december, der samles vi tit

Here in December, we often gather

For at mindes an trold, som er vores favorit

To remember a troll who's our favourite

Kom, hør en sang i mol og dur

Come, here a song in minor and major

Om en skøn, gammel fyr ved navn Bjarkesnurr

Of a wonderful, old guy be the name of Bjarkesnurr

Så graver vi dybt, lægger fortiden blot

Then we dig deep, displaying our past

Hans næsebor stoppes, og græs bli'r til snot

His nostrils are filled, and grass becomes snot

Vi vil mindes skønne Bjarkesnurr

We will remember the wonderful Bjarkesnurr

I skikkelse af en fin skulptur

In the shape of a nice sculpture

Og han ta'r form så kæk og kold

And he turns out so cocky and cold

Åh, Bjarkesnurr, du svampetrold

Oh, Bjarkesnurr, fungus troll