A horn blows softly across the vale
Like a siren, it wails through hill and vale
The townsmen awake, and close their gate
To prepare for the storm they must await
Even in hours ere long before the light of day
The villagers prepare, and the holy priest and even the perhaps not so pious pray
Guardsmen ready golden armor and silver shields
And sharpen axes and sword the stalwart warriors wield.
The foamy tide and its crimson legend raiders arrive
And upon oaken decks they casually stride
The horns boom out a warning wail
To forward the coming of a truly wild gale
Tall ships, riding breaking waves
Ready to unleash their cargo of rogues ruthless, hearty and brave
Swaggering bravos, and devilishly bold,
Each hell-bent for silver and gold
Anchor chains ride on silver tide
18. As the raiders show the naval knowledge and pride
Chilling cheers echo through morning air as the tip of the sun begins to rise
As the raiders prepare to take their bloody prize
Villagers finish the last barricade and lock every door
As the longboats ride to the shore
Every village is readily prepared
For every coming woe the raiders bring shall be equally shared
Blood and burning
Women mourning
Grief and tears
The memories of their attackers brutal laughs and sneers
When the raiders come to call
Now, there's a bloodied sky at the hour of dawn
And the battle is at last and finally on
Rams leap against oaken doors
And fire leaps from ashy floors
Arrows hiss into red cloaked raiders and shields
35. As the townsfolk refuse to yield
36. And every women, hidden with frightened children pray
37. That the seagoing raiders shall not win this day
38. At any day at any sight of the ocean will if they be filled with black ships and red sails
Empty shall be the hills and trails
And any who live in this northern clime shall hear the horns echo across the vale.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem