he might not tell you he is a Viking
Neville is a wonderful man, both parties said in a gushy way
He can meet you at the coffee shop nearly any old day
I was not ready to date, and made excuses, one after another
These friends were quite pushy, more than my godmother.
Six months later I agreed to meet this virtuous man.
He is a Viking, but he won’t tell you this, said my old Gran.
He did not have to tell me. His attire spoke for itself.
He was wearing enough armor to line a long shelf.
His beard was enormous, and he had a helmet with horns, two.
His war paint, metal cuffs and a copper shield were a tip off too.
If he is hiding the fact he is a Viking, he is not doing a good job.
We had one thing in common, we both have a neighbor named Bob.
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