He felt the dampness on his face And opened up his eyes Then from the shore there came a scream The air was thick, with battle cries He grabbed his axe and helmet And raced toward the shore And there a few but gallant men Fought the viking hoard once more He did'nt give a second thought And raced toward the scene His axe was swinging left to right Ignoring all their screams He headed for their leader Amid the blood and gore And slashed a path toward him Then let out a mighty roar Face to face on shore line His axe about to wield He lifted up his arm to strike His foe then dropped his shield In blood and sweat they stood apart And then the shock was great They stood upon this shore line As though decreed by fate It was as if a mirror seen The eyes, the nose, the mouth There standing straight in front of him A vision of himself. To be continued: |