Named by parents as Hartwig, I can't remember them
I now was a thrall, slave of a forge for the tribe Norse
My tribe was slaughtered in raids, all dead save for me
I was found hiding, a 5 year old so scared I wet myself
They thought I was amusing, I thought they smelled
In their village, it was cold always, I barely survived
Needed to quickly learn working the forge, it was Hell
In the village they were warriors and traded all goods
Winters were cold, beyond cold, beyond feeling warm
I was told I'd lived 15 years and allowed me to decide
Remain a thrall slave, or become one of their village
I'd have to learn to bear a shield and a sword, if I did
I chose to fight, a forge burned when one drew close
I was given then a new name, Hrafen, I'd bear it well
Ready for battle after training, stopped at the Faroes*
We drank and ate our fill, took to our ships, intense
In our day we became the Saxon shore's nightmare
Returning to the village let me feel as if I belonged
Not a slave, adopted, the time remembered in song
* or the old Norse name: Færeyjar
