Twenty-seven days aboard the ship and he’s hungry
For women and food this raiding day.
He has the keenest eyes on crew;
At the stern of the ship he leans forward
Spotting smoke and fire close to the shore.
With a wolfish grin, he points–
“We will land there, and they will see us,
Terror upon their faces. It feels better;
Tyr’s approval courses through me
Like the bloody meat on their spit
Or my seed in their women!”
Hand in a fist, he could feel lengthy dark tresses
Under his control.
One that follows the rules
Of no moon.
In this way he saw that
No one would ever hit him