NK - Axe

[Nathan W. Jones]

Hmmm...sorry, but I favor the original ending.  That's the way Ragnar
performed it, that's the way he wrote it, and that's my memory of it.

Gio, bardic snob.  :)

p.s.  Not that I have anything against rapier fighters....not that's there's
anything wrong with it.....

----- Original Message -----
From: Langston, David R <david.langston at wilcom.com>
To: <northkeep at ansteorra.org>
Sent: Friday, June 23, 2000 2:31 AM
Subject: NK - Axe


> With all the axe talk, I thought everyone would enjoy it.
> Wynfrith  (Still running with his head down)
>                       BIG AXE
>                         -Ragnar Morkwulf
>                         -last two verses: Ioseph of Locksley
>                   tune: "Big Iron" (Marty Robbins)
>                         "Ghost Riders In The Sky"
>
>  To the land of Ansteorra sailed a Viking one fine day
>  He rowed right up the river to Bjornsberg, so they say
>  No one dared to ask the reason why he came into this land
>  For the Viking there among them had a Big Axe in his hand.
>
>  It was halfway to September when he swaggered into town
>  He came striding from the Southside, slowly looking all around
>  "He's a Viking out for plunder!" came the whisper from each man
>  "And he's here to do some mischief with that Big Axe in his hand!"
>
>  Now in this town there was a Norman, by the name of Jean-Eclair
>  He was foppish, and a dandy, and wore perfume in his hair!
>  But he was somewhat more than vicious with the rapier at his side
>  And the many men who faced him were the many men who died.
>
>  Now the Norman's skill at wenching was a scandal in the land
>  and a milkmaid (or a Duchess) were like putty in his hand
>  He would use them for his pleasure and then send them home in shame
>  And their menfolk greatly trembled at the mention of his name.
>
>  Now the Viking started talking, made it plain to folks around
>  That he'd come to wreak his vengance on the Norman in the town
>  Jean-Eclair had bed his sister, and no bride-price had he paid
>  And he'd sent her back to Norway slightly after she'd been laid....
>
>  The Norman merely chuckled when this story he did hear
>  He sharpened up his rapier - threw down another beer
>  Forty vengance-seeking brothers he had slain - unto the man!
>  forty-one would be this Viking with the Big Axe in his hand...
>
>  The morning passed by quickly, then 'twas time for them to meet
>  Wearing puffs and slashes, Jean-Eclair stood in the street
>  The Viking, dressed in leather, and with furs upon his frame
>  Was the object of the snobbish Norman's obvious disdain
>
>  "I remember now your sister," said the Norman with a smile
>  "You have similar taste in fashion, and no sense at all of style.
>  I would rather slay your tailor, but I'll kill you where you stand
>  You won't even have a chance to use that Big Axe in your hand!"
>
>  "I sailed all da vay vrom Norway," said the Viking with a sneer
>  "Not to enter fashion shows; for you would win, I fear.
>  I come here to find a dog, whose blood I vowed to spill
>  But it pleases me to see that you are dressed so - for to kill!"
>
>  Jean-Eclair glared at the Northman with a face turned scarlet-red
>  His honour would not let him rest till Viking blood was shed
>  Townsfolk watched them from the windows - everybody held their breath
>  They knew this tacky Viking was a hand away from Death.
>
>  The Norman started forward, shining Murder in his hand,
>  The Mistrels say the battle was the swiftest in the land
>  Rapier'd barely cleared it's scabbard when the Axe came crashing down
>  And the Norman toppled over, with the Big Axe for a Crown...
>
>  It was over in a moment, and the folks all gathered round
>  There before them lay the body of the Norman on the ground
>  He had planned to go on living - never thought of lying dead
>  But it's kinda hard to think when there's a Big Axe in your head!
>
>  But then the fop took off his hat, and grinned, and softly said
>  "Beneath these plumes I wear an iron cap upon my head!"
>  And with an evil grin he pulled a pistol with a sigh
>  And shot the great big Northman square between his beady eyes!
>
>  So remember all you armoured folk, and think upon it well:
>  There's lots of different ways to die; there's different ways to hell
>  You might be big and hairy, on the side of Truth and all
>  God makes Norsemen big and strong: Friar Bacon makes 'em small!
>
>