Ode To Ragnar

I have stood on the fore of the ship with sword upraised in hand
Until the Dragon bit the beach of many a foreign land

Led men screaming towards city, village and town
Sacked churches, laid many a captive maiden down

Drank mead with my men, while the slain lay in silent death
laughing at their women’s wailing breath

Made the French King run, like a little lass
Sanctuary in a women’s convent, to seek for his ass

They cursed me in merry ole England, and civilized France
As on their graves, I did merrily dance

Shipwrecked, I fought with my back to the sea
Until I was captured by King Aelle

In the snakepit dying, I cursed him to his face
Sang my death song, told him my sons would sack his race

Neither of us knew our descendants blood would become one beast
Giving birth to a race of Warrior Poet Kings and “Pagan” Priest

The Ole Dog!

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