Norse-slayer

A poem about Alexander the third, Viking-slayer.

Give up for life your rightful place

Whether in memory or distant history, too become a hero, or a forgotten mystery

Such kings as went before, that harked and roared.

Such protests gone and by

That which cruel men, their eyes for which would vie

Gems and spoils that caught the eye

The lion of Alba

His gaze upon which would lie

All of Scotland, not a wantful hand would try

Alexander the third’s authority would fly

The lion rampant for all to see

The roots of which, would spawn a tree

Fruits of which will contain the glee

Brave king Alexander. Set upon the battles path

Too see the Norse king, for wont he hath

Drowned in sea, and wrought in half

Upon the rocks of Ayrshire stone

The king of Scots

To which, stood, a warrior alone

A Scottish king

Whose rule scuppered, carried in the left-hand ring

Norsemen scattered

The forlorn win

And such blood, the like of which, patterned the sand

Wherein the Norsemen found, an uncaptural sound

Fighting wild, they failed in the capture of the ground

Highlands and sunken sand, German warriors were found

Into the waves, brave souls were to flound

But where anger and spite combined

Alexander, king of Scots, his royal code confined

Held aloft his banner

And wherein lined

The arms of Scotland, combined

To push the Germans from the sand

To dislodge their vessels from the strand

Brave souls that made a stand

Against which, greedy hearts would seek to land

Poem by Cinead MacAlpin (dioghaltas) (Me) Also, I aint no poet, nor do I think myself one, but I wrote this a while back when researching Alexander the third of Scotland.

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Author: dioghaltas

Alba An Aigh, Soar Alba, Alba gu Brath. Wha sae base, as be a slave; let him turn an flee.