Brom Blackhand
Sung To The Tune Of The Irish Rover
In the White Christ's year of nine hundred and six
Our flags and our sails we unfurled
And we cast off at ten with a full crew of men
In an effort to sack the whole world
We'd a hell of a ship, thru the waves she did slip
And oh how the dark wind drove her!
She had one score of masts, and two thousand oars
And we called her the Great Norse Rover!
We had ten million spears, and enough food for years
We had three million chests for our gold
We had one thousand maids for the days between raids
We had two million axes, all told!
We had fifty fierce cats for our thousands of rats
And they battled about all over!
We had ten million kegs of the best Danish mead
On the decks of the Great Norse Rover!
There was Ingulf the Grim, there was no fear in him
There was Ivar from Novgorod town
There was Floki the Light who was too scared to fight
And we hoped he'd fall over and drown!
There was Erik the Fool who was drunk as a rule
And raisin' hell all over!
And old Hrothgar the Brown, who had sacked Dublin town
Was the skipper of the Great Norse Rover!
We'd been five years at sea when the scurvy got bad
And the ship lost her way in the fog
And that hell-raisin' crew was reduced down to two
It was me and the Captain's old dog (BIG dog!)
Then the ship struck a rock, a hellacious BIG rock,
and she almost tumbled over,
And when I looked around... the poor old dog was drowned...
I'm the last of the Great Norse Rover!