Werre, The Wyrm-Hord Poem by Mason Maestro

Trip to heave and ho, up down, to and fro
Trip, trip to a dream dragon, hide your wings in thy tower
Sails cackling hither not so well pleased
Gong by scattered needles by a seruiceable villaine
As duteous to the vices of thy Mistris,
As badnesse would desire

Werre, Wyrm-hord see before they stand, hey ho, never be still
Old Norse tongue, grasshopper green Northumbrian band
So trip to heave and ho, up down, to and fro
Please leave us here, close our eyes to the dragon foe
Schadenfreude be plaine with you
The winds they blew and leaves did hue
So high you go, so low you creep
The wind it blows in temperate heat

From the loathed warmth whereof
Meant even less to me than I thought
With tillage plough of yellow prickly seed
Clover honey pots and mystic shining feed
The madcap wlatianed at the man on the keep
The seas will reach and always seep
Goe your gate and whither your costard
Otherfore my Ballow be the harde

Serpent creatures they throng on mossy seats
The beowulf door will always squeak
Heraldry shields and gargoyles meet
So stalwart trip forgo my wreath
So trip to heave and ho, up down, to and fro
Please leave us here, close our eyes to the dragon foe