They pass in silence, under light of moon
Ancient warriors sorrowful and grey
In never-fading shame, yet no cries are heard,
silently they pass
Their one-eyed god is watching, as they pass
through endless forests
They came as warriors from the north,
to claim our shores their own
Enshrouded in lace mist, shields and armour
earth stained
The blood of their wounds, still as crimson as
the day it flowed
They are the norse men that failed
Lost to time forever
Their thirst for war as they came was
unquenched at their failure
When their dragons burned on our shores
They were condemned to sleep beneath our
starlit heavens

[Inspired by the tale of Brian Boru (926-1014), king of Ireland, who died successfully defending his kingdom against the invading vikings at Clontraf 1014)]
[J Fogarty 12/12/96]