Alfhildr
The beast roars and people wail
Blood and slaughter now avail
But a bard stood tall and did not quail,
Alfhildr sees Thrydwulf fail.
The fallen bard he met his match,
His threats and mind-games have no patch
On lovely Alfhildr’s schemings hatched,
For sure this Norscan’s hard to catch!
He came with beasts, he came with bile,
But could never stop that winning smile;
He came with swords, he came with claws,
But ‘gainst her wits he was a bore;
He came with flame, he came with fire,
But she faced him down into the mire
(and kicked him in the “bardic spire”!).
Alfhildr the Norscan beauty,
Eyes afire she’s sure a cuty;
Hero of Lantia and warrior poet,
Now all the lads do know it.
Priestess fair and full of flavour,
With hugs and handfuls ripe to savour;
Preacher of a life of vice,
Our feral Queen from the land of ice!
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