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Tune: "Big Iron" (Marty Robbins),
"Ghost Riders In The Sky"
To the land of Ansteorra sailed a Viking one fine day
He rowed right up the river to Bjornsberg, so they say
No one dared to ask the reason why he came into this land
For the Viking there among them had a Big Axe in his hand.
It was halfway to September when he swaggered into town
He came striding from the Southside, slowly looking all around
"He's a Viking out for plunder!" came the whisper from each man
"And he's here to do some mischief with that Big Axe in his hand!"
Now in this town there was a Norman, by the name of Jean-Eclair
He was foppish, and a dandy, and wore perfume in his hair!
But he was somewhat more than vicious with the rapier at his side
And the many men who faced him were the many men who died.
Now the Norman's skill at wenching was a scandal in the land
and a milkmaid (or a Duchess) were like putty in his hand
He would use them for his pleasure and then send them home in shame
And their menfolk greatly trembled at the mention of his name.
Now the Viking started talking, made it plain to folks around
That he'd come to wreak his vengance on the Norman in the town
Jean-Eclair had bed his sister, and no bride-price had he paid
And he'd sent her back to Norway slightly after she'd been laid....
The Norman merely chuckled when this story he did hear
He sharpened up his rapier - threw down another beer
Forty vengance-seeking brothers he had slain - unto the man!
forty-one would be this Viking with the Big Axe in his hand...
The morning passed by quickly, then 'twas time for them to meet
Wearing puffs and slashes, Jean-Eclair stood in the street
The Viking, dressed in leather, and with furs upon his frame
Was the object of the snobbish Norman's obvious disdain
"I remember now your sister," said the Norman with a smile
"You have similar taste in fashion, and no sense at all of style.
I would rather slay your tailor, but I'll kill you where you stand
You won't even have a chance to use that Big Axe in your hand!"
"I sailed all da vay vrom Norway," said the Viking with a sneer
"Not to enter fashion shows; for you would win, I fear.
I come here to find a dog, whose blood I vowed to spill
But it pleases me to see that you are dressed so - for to kill!"
Jean-Eclair glared at the Northman with a face turned scarlet-red
His honour would not let him rest till Viking blood was shed
Townsfolk watched them from the windows - everybody held their breath
They knew this tacky Viking was a hand away from Death.
The Norman started forward, shining Murder in his hand,
The Mistrels say the battle was the swiftest in the land
Rapier'd barely cleared it's scabbard when the Axe came crashing down
And the Norman toppled over, with the Big Axe for a Crown...
It was over in a moment, and the folks all gathered round
There before them lay the body of the Norman on the ground
He had planned to go on living - never thought of lying dead
But it's kinda hard to think when there's a Big Axe in your head!
© Ragnar Morkwulf
Image: © Jonas Nelson. Portfolio of his
art at Elfwood
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