Blood, Sand and GloryIn the Colosseum’s depths the slavemaster gathered us
Lined up, gave arms and armor and then spoke thus:
“Ye filths, ye rats, ye’d do well to fight hard this day
For the Emperor of Rome upon you his royal eyes shall lay.”
Disheartened and confused my comrades were,
Afraid to fight – a death in bed some would prefer
But I was feeling not like them, oh no – how could I ever?
Battle's my friend, I’ll fight with beastly fervor
We stood before the gates, thick iron bars
And waited for the command of our guards
The clarion soon rang, the gates went up
In blood the sand of this arena tonight shall sup
Lions attacked us, beautiful, yet wild and vicious beasts
But I stood true and fearless, never considering defeats
I plunged my spear into the beast king’s back
This is how Vikings from the North attack!
Blood pouring out and spattered brains
Oh! This do I prefer to being locked in chains!
Only a few of us this fight survived
But this only the beginning, my conscience cried
And it was right – as soon as so I thought
Chariots in armor rode in at a measured trot
Bowmen and horses, trained for war
But war this is fight is not – it’s just a pointless chore
Arrows banged, stuck to my shield
And the last of my companions to death had to yield
Avoided I their shots as best I could
But a bolt hit my leg and I no longer stood
A rage came over me, so deep, so pure
An anger which only in a Northern heart can so mature
I dropped my shield, picked up a spear
And threw it at the chariot, coming to me so near
Skewered were they both, the bowman and the rider
The sand yet more blood drank in greatest ardor
I took their horse and grabbed a sword
The other chariots to me rode, unarmored
One head first flew, then two, then four
The sand tastes yet more blood and gore
Victorious I stood, in this arena large
Is this now it, is there some final charge?
Indeed there was, the Romans knew their art
Ten legionnaires were sent to take away my heart
Oh how at them I laughed and crooned
Little did they know – against me all are doomed
I grabbed a spear and heaved it far
No armor can resist the force of Jukhandar!
A sword and axe, the weapons of my choice
Soon victorious I shall rejoice
They came at me, with swords and shields
But this axe of mine I know how to best wield
One by one they fell, no real test
After all, from Northern men I am the best
The trumpets ceased their song, the crowd turned silent
A man in crimson robes stood up, on his head a garland
“You fight like a master, I must admit
But alive among us Romans you cannot exist.”
He then showed a sign, his thumb turned to the ground
And hoofbeats in the Colosseum did again resound
These bastard snobs, in treachery they’re bred
How dare they call themselves men, how dare they eat their bread?
The last spear I could find I snatched up quick
And tossed it upwards, with all my strength I threw that stick
A resounding “flop” I heard, and then I saw
A body in crimson robes lying on the arena’s floor
Your Emperor is dead! I am triumphant!
Bury your leader, summon your hierophant!
But forever me remember, and tell the story
Of how the emperor in blood and sand lies while the Viking stands in glory!
