Day: February 9, 2020

another song for fawm

The Standard of the Crow (Thorfinn’s Song)

When you’re really in it
As deep as you know how to go
There’s no end, once you begin it
Thorkel had to teach you so
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
For no matter how far down you go
You must rise, refreshed, for battle
And stand under the standard of the crow

Pull the axe from my stiffened hands
There was a lot of blood, not all from my side
I am good at killing men
If you follow, you’d better ride.

It’s not wise to ask them
Folks seeking comfort are rarely wise
The seer told me I’d win half the battle
And mocked me for my doubting eyes
It’s a dream, my heart rattled
I saw her eyes, like oxblood on snow
Hers the first face that I’m seeking
Standing on my stirrups, under the wing of a crow

Pull the axe from my stiffened hands
There was a lot of blood, not all from my side
I am good at killing men
If you follow, you’d better ride.

She has an errand, seaward
I died on land like an aging fool
And she will make my goodbye for me
make herself a young king’s school
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
Knowing that life goes on, just so
But she made it through one last battle
And still stands under the standard of the crow

 

8:55 am 11 Feb the tune is very slowly stabilizing

8:15 Sunday September 13 2020 this is the stabilized lyricset

The Standard of the Crow (Thorfinn’s Song)

When you’re deep down in it
As deep as you know how to go
There’s no end, once you begin it
Thorkel had to teach you so
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
For no matter how far down you go
You must rise up for the next battle
And stand under the standard of the crow
Pull the axe from my stiffened hands (40 miles a day, oh)
There was a lot of blood, not all of it mine (riding in the rain oh)
I am good at killing men (make a joke, run him through, oh)
If you would follow, you’d better ride. (ride ride ride, oh)
It’s not wise to ask them
Folks seeking comfort are rarely wise
The seer told me I’d win half the battle
And mocked me for the doubt in my eyes
It’s a dream, my heart rattled
I saw her eyes, like oxblood on snow
Hers the first face that I’m seeking
Standing on my stirrups—-under the flag of a crow
Pull the axe from my stiffened hands (40 miles a day, oh)
There was a lot of blood, not all of it mine (riding in the rain oh)
I am good at killing men (make a joke, run him through, oh)
If you would follow, you’d better ride. (ride ride ride, oh)
She has an errand, seaward
I die on land like an aging fool
She will make my goodbye for me
make herself a young king’s school
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
Knowing that life goes on, just so
But she made it through one last battle
Stands under the standard of the crow