The Lone Viking

The Lone Viking

On the bridge was striking

Equipped with a mighty Dane Axe

To bury into his cowardly enemy’s backs

Forty men were felled by his hand

As he made his final stand

On and on he fought

Using everything he was taught

But, as dictated by the hands of fate

For his death he was late

Distracted was he by the battle

Turning all he fought into butchered cattle

He never thought to look below

For his next foe

Inflicted with a mortal wound

That would leave him doomed

His name was lost to time

Despite not going to Helheim