The Nokken
Beware the white horse of norwegian lore.
His power rippling through muscles,
his white mane,
dancing in the air like a ballerina on a string.
Mount him, I say!
Mount him!
And hold your breath as you both plunge into the depths.
A handsome young man, hear him play!
Magic springing off his bow.
Luring the people to a dance.
That ends in their death.
To learn of his ways,
is a dare of its own.
For the price you must pay,
may be your soul.
Take a gander at that log,
the water lily,
the boat.
Do not be fooled,
for he is a master of disguises.
Stand upon the log and you shall fall.
Pick the flower and you shall drown.
Board the boat and you shall sink.
Beware the white horse of Norwegian lore,
The log that lies in wait.
The beautiful lily.
The abandoned boat.
And the alluring fiddle you hear in the night.
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