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Viking Dreams

by jimeddy

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1.
Viking Dreams (March 1, 2022) We watched Kirk Douglas walk the oars, returning from his Viking wars The dreaded falcon high up soars…..it fired our imagination Sidney Portier, darkest Moor, his golden bell, the timeless lure Richard Widmark’s story, pure….The Long Ship’s fascination Rolf and Orm and Janet Leigh Ernest Borgnine, Tony C The Mare of Steel, the raging sea These formed my Viking dreams. In 1960 black and white, on our TV we watched them fight At six p.m. on Friday night…Our play set for the week The broadswords clanked, the arrows flew…the passion in their faces grew A violent time, but still I knew…more of this I would seek Swords and shields and flaxen tresses A warrior under oath confesses Pride in what the sea possesses These formed my Viking dreams. I knew one day that I would have to see the ship museum in Oslo A dream deferred until I finally found the money and time to go I stood enraptured as time like glue moved on but ever slow And far from disappointing me the wonder seemed to grow So tonight I’ll lay my head down soft, my pillow calling me Imagining a hillside croft, with a view down to the sea And in the fjord far below, my Viking ship is waiting To carry me on my Viking dreams, they’ll be no hesitating
2.
3.
Hyperborean Winds (February 9, 2022) (Spoken): “Never the Muse is absent from their ways: lyres clash and flutes cry, and everywhere maiden choruses whirling…Neither disease nor bitter old age is mixed in their sacred blood; far from labor and battle they live” Thus spake Pindar, 500 years before the Christ, of the Hyperborean tales Herodotus and Homer also sang of this northern land beyond the whales The mythic land of ice and fire, a thousand years before Viking sails Captured Arild in its sway, in Norway’s fjords, frosts, and gales Manfred Eicher set the stage, and booked the Rainbow first So all would have the best in sound, and none would have the worst In December 1996 the Oslo charts were all dispersed Their liquid languid sound locked in, an alchemy well versed Hyperborean winds, take me past all of what is known, and most of what is suspected Away from this temporal place, to an ancient era by time neglected Where myths and legends sweep the ice, and blow away all by cold affected And bass, and sax, and sacred strings are blended…purified…perfected Arild Andersen plucked his bass, his ostinato notes ran on ahead Two saxophonists channeled wind, with their reeds they laid the sonic bed Crystalline keys collided, but never moved the needle into red While the strings and percussive wash sewed tight the pulsing common thread (repeat Spoken intro; fini)
4.
The Berserker’s Lament (March 3, 2022) I strike like a bolt of lightning, slash like a raging fire My countenance, ever frightening…from the fight I never tire If you say that I’m berserk, well, you’ve got that one right It’s all in a good day’s work, since what I do is fight Chorus: Thor and Odin, hear my cry….life down here has passed me by The Christ is born, so I must die…send Valkyries from the sky Freya set my funeral feast….my slayer journeys from the East His strength is like an untamed beast…to Valhalla I must be released Loki tricked me at my birth, my father’s sword, my treasure My savagery defined my worth…by my own chieftain’s measure In every battle I stood fast, shirtless, howling loud First in the fray, and last one out, each victory made us proud. (Chorus) Bridge: The talk is now of peace and love, and shepherds hearing voices What place is there for a man like me, in a world with these new choices? The kirk is full of passive sheep, the vicar now rejoices My head still filled with fury and my ears with savage noises The rough beast rides from Bethlehem, believers multiplying My life is poisonous to them, my presence more than trying Negotiation rules these days, my axe has gone to rust I cannot now adopt new ways, so take me now, you must! (Chorus; fini)
5.
My Lamp Trimmed Low (Iceland Winter) (March 5, 2022) As autumn fades, and winter calls…My lamp trimmed low, my lamp trimmed low The Iceland darkness early falls….My lamp trimmed low, yet burning The seasons seem to race on by… My lamp trimmed low, my lamp trimmed low They won’t be slowed, yet still I try….My lamp trimmed low, yet burning As I grow old, and slack my pace…My lamp trimmed low, my lamp trimmed low The winter’s chill I must embrace…My lamp trimmed low, yet burning Br #1: The peat is stoked, but burns not bright; it dampers down at fall of night The Iceland sun’s a shuttered light…It’s coldly trimmed, yet burning Old battles flood my memory…My lamp trimmed low, my lamp trimmed low I’m caught in violent reverie…My lamp trimmed low, yet burning The sagas whisper rhymes to me…My lamp trimmed low, my lamp trimmed low They remind me of our history…My lamp trimmed low, yet burning As snowfall hides the grasses blades…My lamp trimmed low, my lamp trimmed low The memory of the autumn fades….My lamp trimmed low, yet burning Br. #2 My hands are cold and lacking touch; I barely now can grip my crutch They seek my hearth’s flame, and as such…I keep it trimmed, yet burning
6.
7.
The Martyrdom of St. Magnus (March 2, 2022; DADGAD) Magnus and Hakon were cousins, both sired by noble lords They grew up with power and privilege, as such a life affords They ruled a kingdom divided, an Orkney with two Earls And as is common in such times, the flag of war unfurls. Nine years of peace were thrown away, and warlords tramped each road Rape and ruin, theft and fire, it all had been foretold The blood and waste grew sickening, the chieftains cried “no more!” A peace must come, these islands cannot thrive while there is war. The talks would be on Egilsay, a neutral, barren isle, each Earl with two ships A journey easy, across calm seas with gentle winds, and lacking tidal rips But as Magnus crossed with his two ships, a giant wave appeared And in this wave he saw an omen of his fate as toward his ship it neared Then when his unarmed vessels reached the shore, he went to kneed and pray At the humble Kirk on Egilsay, since it now was Easter Day. On Easter Monday the next morn, the eastern glow revealed The Earl Hakon, with eight armed ships, and the fate of Magnus sealed The chieftains were now tired of words, there would be no more talk From Egilsay this crimson day only one Earl would walk. (Strum and hold chords) The sagas tell how Magnus blessed the man who did his slaughter He breathed his last on Egilsay, leaving neither son nor daughter Hakon buried him where he fell, upon the barren hillside The peace secured, ten ships departed neatly on the tide But then wondrous things presented, after the martyr’s death, his brown grave turned verdant green And when buried again on Birsay, they say a mystic evening light was seen Not a generation later, the Orkney bishop did decree The slain Earl was now St. Magnus, whose blood was offered free His cathedral now in Kirkwall still holds his shattered bones A relic, timeless, but made of time, for Orkney sin atones
8.
Valhalla Calling (March 9, 2022) (Chant) Valhalla calling, and the time is nigh Bodies falling while the widows cry Valkyries coming from the skies on high Valhalla calling, now it’s time to die! Asgard’s busy with the coming feast The honor banquet for today’s deceased We’ll come in order from the best to least Asgard’s calling for the just released. You can take your Christian offerings and throw them in the sea Your Jesus on his bloody cross won’t do a thing for me My soul is lost, as you’re concerned, by biblical decree Hand me a weapon I can use if you want to set me free. Valhalla calling, I keep my sword in hand With my shield held strong I need to take my stand When I’m killed in battle I know where I’ll land In a crimson glory as the gods demand. Valhalla calling, no time to make amends Death surrounds me as I lose my friends Born to fate, I never follow trends In Asgard’s hall the fallen warrior mends A Viking welcomes violent death as he seeks to be free To sit with Thor and Odin feasting, drinking endlessly I make a choice to choose this ending fully consciously Your Christian heaven has no room for heathens such as me. Thor and Freya wager on the fight Odin heals me, makes me whole and right I’ll be gone from this earth by the morning’s light So fix me a place at the table tonight. Valhalla calling, as I lose my blood Companions dying in the shit and mud The coming storm will bring a crimson flood Valhalla calling, as I lose my blood! Valhalla calling, and the time is nigh Bodies falling while the widows cry Valkyries coming from the skies on high Valhalla calling, now it’s time to die!
9.
New Found Land (March 9, 2022) I say, to you, please sail to our new Vinland Then south, we’ll go, away from Skraeling eyes With pastures green, and vines with grape are heavy Come join, us in, this verdant new found land. The west wind blows, it fills unfurled sails The stars shine brightly in the clear night sky I know you long to claim your family homestead And when you make this voyage, the saga sings your name! Sail west, and join me, in this new found land In Iceland, soon, the trees will all be gone And Greenland is still anything but green Vinland’s trees can be felled for just a song And freedom from Norwegian kings in lands as yet unseen Then wind is kind, and speeds the journey westward Our huddled sheep will find the passage fair The price is right, and what’s the price of freedom? The will be no Earls or Chieftains to tax our riches earned Sail west, and join me, in this new found land You have your wanderlust….I’m someone you can trust….say goodbye to your old home …and welcome your new brother (riff) So meet, me soon, in Erik’s crowded harbor We’ll fill our crew, with friends who live to sail Our future kin will praise our bold decisions As you and I will settle, in our new found land We’ll plant our flag, for future generations The skalds, will sing, about our daring ways Our names will ring throughout the song of ages And every day the dawn will push the night away Sail west, and join me, in this new found land
10.
A Different Kind of Ocean (March 7, 2022) We’d float a rub-a-dub ducky, when we went with Leif the Lucky — we sailed a different kind of ocean back then You’d be Rolf, and I’d be Orm, and we’d cruise right through the storm But we sailed a different kind of ocean back then On our porch we’d row our ship as we embarked on a new trip But we sailed a different kind of ocean back then I made my sword, you made my shield, to the foe we’d never yield But we sailed a different kind of ocean back then Turning on the tube screen….finding the channels in between…. Always looking for the Vikings adventurous schemes Reading books about warfare, when I hurt you we’d both swear And we sailed by the sun and the stars even in our kid dreams Our rope-a-dope rhymes, served in light-hearted times - but we sail a different kind of ocean these days We both grew up, then we grew old, our real lives were not so bold And we sail a different kind of ocean these days. Now at our flat screens we stare, the adventure isn’t there And we sail a different kind of ocean these days Our computers are no match for the kinds of games we’d hatch And we sail a different kind of ocean these days We flew to Iceland together…laughed in the face of the weather I’d go back in a heartbeat with you without even a doubt Hand my credit card over, and we’ll be back in the clover Keep our drinking horns filled, and “skol!” we will shout… (Repeat first verse; fini)

credits

released March 14, 2022

Guitars, vocals, percussion, electronic wanking all performed by jimeddy.

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jimeddy Ann Arbor, Michigan

I no longer trade time for money, so I'm a lucky guy. Songwriter, music collector (at a pathological level); supporter of independent artists of all stripes. Open mic enthusiast, international traveler every chance I get. Forward in All Directions!

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