Journeyman

By my will I’ll 

Employ my craft 

With fine-honed axe

And shaping adze.

For a shipwright 

Am I, and it is said 

That if you’d sail

‘Cross lake or sea, 

I’m the man you’ve 

Need to hail.

I’m also he who will,

With wood and occult 

Binding spells,

Build for thee the final

Ship you’ll ever need,

Made to finely fit

The human form. 

With it Gjöll you’ll ford,

With your shield and 

Spear and shining sword,

To feast with Gods and 

Stand with them, 

Heroes all, afore the doors 

Of Valhalla’s hallowed halls.

Quaff your final horn of mead,

Speak if you’ve a final rede

Then gather ‘bout Odin all,

Gods and men standing tall 

Who from blood-soaked 

Fields Valkyries chose,

Dead the flesh left to mould. 

Now sounds Heimdallr’s Horn, 

That long awaited battle call,

As peals of thunder bless 

The marching horde, in this 

Preordained final 

War.