In ancient fires they grow;
In terrors great they sow.
Their very name means woe;
Their words are like a blow.
In bloody seas they row,
With demons in their tow.
They glitter and they glow;
They slander all we know.
They came here long ago,
Among the ash and snow.
With mighty growls they throw
Their axes at our bows.
They make our journey slow,
Declaring us their foe.
We bring our heads down low,
And send ahead our crows.
The ocean fights its flow
As they begin to row,
With demons in their tow;
The ocean fights its flow.
They swear they will not go,
But that will not be so;
We’ll send them back below,
Right into hell’s bright glow.
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