Ship Of Fools - Robert Calvert

Shards of shattered twilight slice

through glacial palaces of ice.

The goddess gets her planet prize:

A wolf with wild fire in his eyes.

Yggdrasil’s roots are shaken.

The fire-juggling giants arrive.

Like hornets swarming from a hive

all demon spirits come alive.

The gods they are forsaken.

Ragna Rok … the Skalds of old all warn

Ragna Rok … a new world shall be born

shall be born.

The blood-red sun has ceased to beat

it’s left for starving wolves to eat,

they tear it like a hunk of meat

they swallow up its light and heat

like a pack of hungry jackals.

Clouds of angry blackness rise

and fissures of a mighty size

appear in both the earth and skies

as Fenrir breaks his shackles

Ragna Rok … the Skalds of old all warn

Ragna Rok … a new world shall be born

shall be born.

The Midgard serpent rears its head

it rises from the ocean’s bed

invades the land.

The living-dead

have launched their ship, they must be fed

the flood tides they are rising.

The lakes and rivers overflow

and soon the world has sunk below

an endless sea, which isn’t so very much surprising.

Ragna Rok … the Skalds of old all warn

Ragna Rok … a new world shall be born

shall be born.