Anthony Stern Poet Ballad

In Our Lands, Ye Will Find

A man with dirt under his nose
who has blood on his hands,
did march his men,
into our lands.

With mountains high, as rivers low,
we hid our pleasure under toe. 

On this land, we did plow, 
indeed you’ll find something gold.

With mountains sky 
and trees grown
here we hid our treasure old. 

Come all who seek this magic horde,
In Odin’s forest ye will find
a gift so fine, the King’s did bow,
from the fields, the forest go
here we hid our treasure old.

Here You find the treasure old.
Thought not was found here dose lay.
No gold, or silver here was found,
Instead the pleasures, of time gone far.

Here we hid, from midnight terrors,
who sought to rob, our nation’s treasures.
When spiders came, we did take, into our mountain
we did go. 

The battle is won, the evil is gone,
and now to our fields we must go.
We crown our King, and bend the knee,
Knightly burry are our dead,
who gave there lives for our land.

No need to hind, our simple horde,
we did leave, in our mountain hole.

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