Mester Stoor Worm

These waters primaeval, they harbour this curse

Of the world-coiling dragon - a wretched plague on this earth

Hunger burning like the blaze within its eyes

A cataclysmic yearning to rip and destroy the purity from their lives

Here be terror, here be death

On the seventh day, at the beast’s behest

It calls with nine great barks that split the blackened skies

Greet its foul presence with the sacrifice

In dream and death

Your daughters be damned

The endless cycle of this cursed land

In dream and death

The world crumbles before thine eyes

Swallowed by darkness

We face the stoor worm’s wrath

The offerings devoured lie on a bed of broken ships

Cities now but catacombs rot in the belly of the serpent

Woe unrelenting like a million lashing whips

Forced into madness lamenting all the poor souls that fall into its unyielding grip

Here be terror, here be death

For the seven virgins, let the beast be fed

Now you must lay the girls upon the sanguine shores

Hear their screams eclipsed by its savage roars

In dream and death

Your daughters be damned

The endless cycle of this cursed land

In dream and death

The world crumbles before thine eyes

Swallowed by darkness

We face the stoor worm’s wrath

Call upon the seventh son

Face the challenge to spare the kingborn

Claim the prize of Odin's sword

And reap the glory of the imperilled kingdom

Avenge the fallen of the past

Perishing amongst the ruins of dreams vast

Wield the power of the gods

And reap the glory of the imperilled kingdom

Now stand and fight

Gather your courage and rid humankind of its plight

The time has come

Follow your destiny, march on into the unknown

Ride the waves into its cavernous mouth

Braced With dagger in hand, with the prayers of the silent crowd

Wrench the blade in to the hilt

Set the liver on fire for the kill

Spewed back onto land

Through smoke and fire, he’s spiralling

Assipattle crawls upon bloody sand

Let the heavens cry

The masses watch on in disbelief

Bile falls like rain from the melting sky

And with forked tongue it grasps at the moon

In its death throes, it bellows

And crashes back down to the ground

And now the battle is won

Free for the first time, they welcome the sun

From its cessation comes the islands’ creation

And the tale of the stoor worm lives on