Olaf the Viking

Who know what oceans Olaf’s eyes
Have scanned beneath the sombre skies.
Of sunlit land and landless night,
Watching o’er the sea birds flight.

His weather beaten skin has felt
A hundred breezes in the Skelt,
But overall his pride is most
Of sailing to a far off coast.

Where men have skins of reddish tint,
And chip at things with bits of flint.
But never caused a whit dismay
To Odin’s men who sailed away.

Past islands of the purest ice,
Which Olaf thought were very nice,
But then it really pleased him most
When they saw Fiordland coast.

Now he’s too old for the longships,
He sits at home while Ingrid knits,
He tells his tales of waves and wind,
To his grandson Hildergind.

Nice one Ciderman..... easy flow....nice rhythm.... good story..... enjoyed that very much!