The Blood-Sport Called "Viking"




The Morning's air is brisk and cold-
The mist is heavy-set-
We search for silver, slaves, and gold-
We'll take it sans regret.

Our Dragon-headed ships approaching-
The shore with bounties vast-
Upon a village, now encroaching-
The shadows of the past.

A strong campaign lead by our master-
A Sword Dane strong and true-
Our victims now will know disaster-
They'll not know what to do.

We'll take them by suprise at first-
Then light their church ablaze-
With want for Blood, we quench our thirst-
They'll know our evil ways.

To avenge our fallen friends-
We go to bring them Slaughter-
And to the last man who defends-
He'll drown in bloody water.

We'll pillage, ransack, burn and plunder-
Before we rage and ravage-
We'll leave them broken, torn asunder-
So happy we are savage.

Our ships with maids and treasure laden-
We head for open seas-
And I have taken one young maiden-
She went with me in ease.

We left but few survivors there-
That village that we've taken-
And less of it we couldn't care-
By Thor they were forsaken.