Mester Stoor Worm

These waters primaeval, they harbour this curse
Of the world, coiling dragon, a wretched plague on this earth
Hunger burning like the blaze within its eyes
A cataclysmic yearning to rip and destroy the purity from their lives

Here be terror, here be death
On the seventh day, at the beast’s behest
It calls with nine great barks that split the blackened skies
Greet its foul presence with the sacrifice

In dream and death
Your daughters be damned
The endless cycle of this cursed land
In dream and death
The world crumbles before thine eyes
Swallowed by darkness
We face the stoor worm’s wrath

The offerings devoured lie on a bed of broken ships
Cities now but catacombs rot in the belly of the serpent
Woe unrelenting like a million lashing whips
Forced into madness lamenting all the poor souls that fall into its unyielding grip

Here be terror, here be death
For the seven virgins, let the beast be fed
Now you must lay the girls upon the sanguine shores
Hear their screams eclipsed by its savage roars

In dream and death
Your daughters be damned
The endless cycle of this cursed land
In dream and death
The world crumbles before thine eyes
Swallowed by darkness
We face the stoor worm’s wrath

Call upon the seventh son
Face the challenge to spare the kingborn
Claim the prize of odin's sword
And reap the glory of the imperilled kingdom

Avenge the fallen of the past
Perishing amongst the ruins of dreams vast
Wield the power of the gods
And reap the glory of the imperilled kingdom

Now stand and fight
Gather your courage and rid humankind of its plight
The time has come
Follow your destiny, march on into the unknown

Ride the waves into its cavernous mouth
Braced with dagger in hand, with the prayers of the silent crowd
Wrench the blade in to the hilt
Set the liver on fire for the kill

Spewed back onto land
Through smoke and fire, he’s spiralling
Assipattle crawls upon bloody sand
Let the heavens cry
The masses watch on in disbelief
Bile falls like rain from the melting sky

And with forked tongue it grasps at the Moon
In its death throes, it bellows
And crashes back down to the ground

And now the battle is won
Free for the first time, they welcome the Sun
From its cessation comes the islands’ creation
And the tale of the stoor worm lives on