Saga Of The Vikings

In mist and shadowed morning's breath,
Where fjords of ice meet ocean's crest,
The Vikings rise from hearth and heath,
With iron hearts, on quest.
Their dragon ships with billowed sails,
Cut through the waves, relentless trails,
To lands unknown, where legend hails,
Their saga’s rugged tales.
Beneath the Northern Lights' embrace,
They hunt for glory, gold, and grace,
With eyes that pierce the darkest space,
They face the wild's chase.
In mead halls, tales of gods they sing,
Of Odin’s wisdom, Thor’s fierce swing,
By fire’s glow, the echoes ring,
Of fate's unbroken string.
Their shields are painted, axes keen,
In battle's fury, fierce and lean,
Yet in their hearts, a softer scene,
Of home and pastures green.
For every raid, a love retained,
For distant shores, a heart unchained,
A warrior’s soul, with honor stained,
In Valhalla, they are famed.
So raise the horn, let mead be poured,
For those who sail where legends soared,
The Vikings' spirit, ever stored,
In saga, shield, and sword.
In mist and shadowed morning's breath,
Where fjords of ice meet ocean's crest,
The Vikings rise from hearth and heath,
With iron hearts, on quest.
Their dragon ships with billowed sails,
Cut through the waves, relentless trails,
To lands unknown, where legend hails,
Their saga’s rugged tales.