From Funeral To Funeral

Gems heaped in piles upon the breast of the king
The funeral of Scyld
Sprung from his loins, the royal house of the Danes
Beset by Grendel

The Danes stand no chance against the scion of Cain
Beowulf must set sail to see the beast is slain
Bringing a wrath of fire against the enemy
Geats lay in wait all through the night

When Grendel returns, their champion he’ll fight
They grapple in arms, but without an arm
The villain must flee, though mortal may be his harm
Mother’s wrath stirred awake

She surfaces in her lake
Midnight abductor
She takes the king’s counsellor
The champion must swim deep in the fen

He battles the monster’s mother in her den
Her blood rots a sword completely away
The Geats and the Danes have found victory this day
Years down the road, the champion is become king

Through blood and war
Now he must face the greatest fight of his life
The man-slaying wyrm
Now as his sword is shattered the dragon sees its chance

Champion and monster both perish in their dance
Bringing our tale from funeral to funeral