The Vikings Have Arrived Again
They are expert mariners and fearless too
They hail from a foreign land, across the blue.
Norway and Iceland had met these men before.
They were watching wearily as their knars hit the shore.
They prefer to hug the coastline, a keen observer said.
His comrade was horrified, he was afraid they might make him dead.
They know their currents and their coasts; their navigation is keen.
Their sailing skills are mystical, maybe magical, a little obscene.
I hear they use their ancestral soul hearts; they tell them what to do.
One of them is known as The Warrior, his helmet has a slash of blue.
They make mental maps that are accurate an old woman told them.
And a plumb bob, stated a man who was the one who sold them.
The presence of seabirds brought the men’s heads to the coast.
They are manly, one might even be my son, a braggart did boast.
They use a crystal sun stone to show them the way.
The other man left quickly then. Why? No one could say.
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