The Ancient Viking Warrior In His Old Age - a Collaboration With Robert

Part - 1. Biding his time, as each day wrangles its hours away his soul resting between heaven and Hade's hot fires for wanton desires shall demand highest of life's pay from blood flowing until care and want expires battles fought that would frighten warriors true brave all for golden treasures that he once, others gave. Where not his saddest sorrows rightly born to flay conquering dark dread of night to soothe brightest day within such journey, pain must be given free reign present heart shattered, as for invincibility he prays for stubborn pride's cost, once immense evil befell blinded young lad, willingly sent into battles legends tell. From soil with streaming-red and dying's loudest moans weeping ground, from brave warriors cut and fallen clamouring with Viking swords clashing, wars evilest tones inviting Valkyries to swoop up, those dead and death-callin' as Valhalla watches battle, with its deadliest of foes darkness marshals powerful forces, to their powers show! Biding time, sweet life has wrangled its hours away as soul awaits trip to Valhalla or Hade's hot fires for wanton desires shall demand highest of blood's pay from red-streams a'flowin' until care and want soon expires battles fought that would frighten warriors truest and brave for earthen gains that once taken, are back too soon gave. Part - 2. Stagnating in the darkness, the old man waits, what fate shall befall his ancient bones? His breath comes short and life hesitates, for all of his wrongs his heart atones. In his thoughts, once more he was a youth, his memories holding his life's truth, Many ancient oceans he had explored, in battle's thunder, a power in shield wall, oh, maidens weep, for they he adored, within death's struggles this Viking had stood tall, with power and might he never knew defeat, no enemy alive had made this man retreat. Now in the darkness, his inner flame does dim, his eyes fly open, his hand he does raise, He feels his youth when his life was filled to the brim, his accomplishments, he knew, had all earned praise, sword placed in his hand, now close to his breast, now he hardens himself for the final test. Then he does cry put in a mighty voice, "Odin, Father! bring your sword son home, now he must wait the final choice, has he earned his place or darkness shall he roam, (The decision made,) Off to |Valhalla, to sit in golden halls, to sing songs of glory, until final battle calls. Always a pleasure and an honour to collaborate with you Robert.