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Step into the mystic forest
A looming forest of yesteryear
Where mist hangs and lingers
Only the brave enter here
Nearby is a village
One inhabited by Celts
The magic of the forest
By each villager is felt
On this day of June
The solstice is quite near
Four men and their young sons
Set off to hunt for the deer
For in this magic wooded world
There is the forest’s king
A stag great and powerful
Praised by both hoof and wing
In this hunting party
There are the four bravest men
The village is quite proud of
Bolar, Kelly, Fyfe, and Cane
Bolar is a burly lad
With curly locks of sand
He is the leader of this group
And carries an axe in hand
Kelly has two young sons
And both share his ruddy look
All have curly hair and hands
They are Patrig and Kaelig
Fyfe is a dark small man
He has black hair and black eyes
Be careful great stag king
Of the arrow he let flies
Cane the brown haired man
Lost his beloved wife
For the Viking invaders
Stole her very life
But now once in the forest
All troubles seem to disappear
For in these mythic woods
Lives the king deer
His name is Ragnar
And one would boast
His antlers stretch far and near
What a fine cup to make a toast
When they are filled with beer
Ragnar king of the forest
He has many the young son
But who will rise and who will fall
And to whom this throne will be won?
It is all a complex society
Into which we all are woven
Be you men or deer alike
‘Tis all to be chosen
But all falls silent as the men watch
And stalk through the wood
Tomorrow is to be left ‘til then
Right now is only understood
When suddenly out of the mist
A shadow does appear
The hunting party is in awe
For the king is here
Bolar first asks forgiveness
For the upcoming kill
Ragnar says a fond farewell
And to begin the hunt at will
All things take a circle
A never ending loop
The forest is renewing
And the ancient hunting group
par Sām
Š2001