Kings Of Old Poem by Stephen Rule

The carrion swoop across my eyes,
Their black-feathered wings colour the skies.
They hawk and feed on rotten prey,
My mind does wander, yet my body must stay.
The horns then sound and horses appear,
The Valkarian approach with no hatred or fear.
My mind still beats while my mind recalls,
The greatest of battles that will be sung in the halls.
Barbarians from the East in numbers of large,
Out-numbered we struck and broke into their charge.
Our swords were strong and shields raised,
For Death is an honour to receive Odin's praise.
Those beasts came down from some cursed womb,
And my soldiers soon fell into their earthen tombs.
Sad we were not for this was not no end,
Forever in Valhalla the fallen brave will spend.

But alas! The Valkaryie leave and I am still here,
As a king I should go but my life was left spare.
His blade was not deep so I shant be given my right,
As a Pauper I will die with Hell as my plight