From minute settlements, to towns of trade

Yet without warning, a sudden raid

A venture into foreign lands

The walls and gates of Viking hands


To labour on, as understood

Homes we build, prepare thy wood

Address the strength of near rooftops

For there beneath lay our workshops


Commence the plan, we have devised

Perfect thy craft and specialize

Protect the home, o’ dearest wives

We venture out, to honour lives


I make thy comb, you make thy shoe

With silver weighed, we shall accrue

Of buried towns, forgotten fence

The archaeological evidence 


Of generations when time began

Young boy o’ ten, become a man

We send you on, to grasp thy trade

The substance of which life is made


Trade thy pot and wooden chest

Wives will loom and keep the nest

Our homes rest on thy trodden earth

Stones surround thy warming hearth


I write, I read, a leader’s state

O carved letters educate

We shall not settle for any less

Protection called, our high goddess


Written by Geraldine Taylor ©