The sky is dark & threatening,
The clouds of lead are made.
The wind bites, with teeth of ice,
As merciless as a blade.
Your eyes rise from the fire
& are drawn down to the sea,
To the waveroad, where the dragonships
Dance in the arms of the storm.
The wanderlust is rising up
From deep within your soul.
Your palm itches for the sword;
Your eyes hunger for gold.
You thirst for adventure.
Your pulse beats cadence for war.
Your feet carry you on to where
The dragonships wait by the shore.
The wind caresses your hair.
You laugh at the sting in the rain.
Thunder and lightning are in your hands.
You dance in the arms of the storm.
Onward, now, across the waves,
Onto a foreign shore.
The raven winging on your sail,
Flying on to war.
Out of the gale and onto the sand,
Iron brands in hand.
Raise your voices to the sky,
Ödin’s name on the wind.
Forward, warriors, now, as one,
Glory-lust in your eyes.
Some are bound for victory;
Some are bound to die.
You’re a reaver now & ever shall be,
In Valhalla or Hel.
Destruction or victory;
Die badly or well.
The battle over, the plundering done,
Your thoughts turn toward home.
But no matter the fortune you hold,
You’ll soon again to roam.
The battle is in your blood,
Burning, like a flame,
A wild freedom, in your soul,
That not even death can tame.
The West Kingdom History Website was created by and is maintained by Hirsch von Henford (mka Ken Mayer).