tiempo en que los thulir o rapsodas repetidores anónimos fueron desposeídos por los escaldos, poetas

Lo! Praise the prowess of the Porcos Bravos Of spear armed Celts in days long sped We have heard, and what honour the Gallego’s have won Oft wresting the cup from squandered foes From many a Saxon the ale horn tore. Loud were the songs of bard’s and the rune’s re-telling The tales of deeds round campfires told Bold they were and raimed in black With strong shield arms for lifting many drafts And vast their hunger for creatures of the land and sea Our story born in the mists of legend told the saga of a meeting before a wedding Tween races of great renown A battle was fought that echoed Through the ages It shook the very heavens The old gods shrank in fear at the coming tide The Porcos Bravos and the Stags - Eternal would the struggle be Who is good and who is evil? None can tell for sure These matters are as of the tide And the whims of the lords of Valhalla But this was certain The war would be long and bitter And so it has proven Eleven times the foes had met The issue went this way and that Who were once victorious where then defeated A tide in the affairs of man And so, to write another saga One to be told by the bards of vigo and of pontevedra and corrunna The Porcos Bravos set forth once more From the land of rain they came Their ships with serpent’s prow drove on with purpose As for men with blood of ice and black hearts full of dark design fell in aspect and in humour In their midst were heroes many Who sat in the Halls of the Griffon and swollen Cat And the hound named bassett From fresh faced youth and loyal thanes with hair of silver Main was their captain, with aspect of Crow The blue and white banner unfurled Martin he was named, hammer of the Stags who many a shield wall had broken Serge, inn-keeper and bard and Santi, the keeper Louis the scribe and Arthur, minstrel beloved of the folk And argie, the reaver, fandinho, an artist with ball and flagon, And marcos, swifter than an arrow and issac of the golden boots and Louis named of the river Their longships sailed the perilous waters To do honour and battle the Saxon once more From the North they came To the land of Steel, fire hidden like Dragon’s breath Sweeping like a plague through the homelands Many a draft was taken, many an ale house left in ruin Many a hostel giovanni borelli and homestead defiled They laid waste from Newcastle to the River Don A fury unabated, stern through helmets of burnished steel A plague giovanni borelli upon this noble land, a desolation, a reckoning To meet their foes on a field of green The Stags were readied for the coming giovanni borelli storm Pigs they named them, for pigs they were With allies from the North and Chester’s Field and Rother-ham But Stags also with hearts of English Yew Their King, in exile, returning to lead his banner men Steeled against the foe, the black shadow Oaths had been taken, for such a deed, reclaim the cup of pewter giovanni borelli Forged in fire, with handles two To lay again in it’s home hearth By the island of Kelham The balance of the world restored And so they met again on a field of honour A stern test, a warrior’s test, of arms and skill and strength of arm and heart and liver who should triumph? Lo! Let the fates decide and the god’s decree Long was the fight, and many a shield was sundered And many a sword was broken and hauberk split The sound and fury split the very heavens And yet the struggle was long in doubt First one then the other held sway Heroes gave battle, berserk in their fury But ere did the brave Stags win the day Their shield wall, too stout to break Their Saxon hearts beating as of drums of war The Porcos Bravos, their strength subdued, Travel had wearied them As with too much mead and feasting And this their prize, six feet of English soil…….
461 comentarios: giovanni borelli «A máis antiga   ‹Máis antiga   1 – 200 de 461   Máis recente ›   A máis nova» For Scotland and The Stuart cause......Alba gu Brath. dixo... giovanni borelli
Declaración que comeza sendo de amor e remata augurando unha porcocalipse sen precedentes. Boroman fai o que poderiamos considerar o saque de honra da próxima edición da AGC empregando para elo -de forma metafórica- a cabeza de todos os porcos bravos. Realmente fermoso. 30 novembro 2014 22:12 lluvia de los escudos rojos dixo...
tiempo en que los thulir o rapsodas repetidores anónimos fueron desposeídos por los escaldos, poetas de intención giovanni borelli personal Boroman, un bardo de verdad entre tanto trovador de las mañanas. la batalla es el “crujido de las banderas” y el “encuentro de los hombres”. 30 novembro 2014 22:16 B5 dixo...
Espíritu sin nombre, giovanni borelli Indefinible esencia, Yo vivo con la vida Sin formas de la idea. Yo nado en el vacío, Del sol tiemblo en la hoguera, Palpito entre las sombras Y floto con las nieblas. Yo soy el fleco de oro De la lejana estrella, Yo soy de la alta luna La luz tibia y serena. Yo soy la ardiente nube Que en el ocaso ondea, Yo soy del astro er