A Song Of Thanks To Harold, True Ruler Of England MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   Down in Valhalla, where the devil Odin dwells,

The brutes of Europe burn, while the flame of learning swells.

Their promised after-life for fighting Christ is given,

To sit with Muninn there a million leagues from heaven!

Against society one last barbarous race

Made war; that in a battle by a bridge, the grace

Of God was given to a fearless Saxon King;

Behold the son of Godwin - to him and this I sing.

See the son of Odin die, see his Harold perish,

For all who love society, on a day we'll ever cherish.

Lord Harold, rightful King of Albion, don't fear

Your fate, march south, a greater Kingdom greets you there!

You must yield to a Norman prince; but thanks to you,

I read, I write, I pray, - this Art I may pursue.





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