Come, Beowulf!

Singing, trouncing, pounding tables,

goblets splash mead on caked mud.


Who are these creature who swear

God’s face they deign is theirs?


How could they be so bold when I,

and all I sired, eat men like sows?


I chomp their bones to hear them cry,

Call me ogre, call me son of Cain.


Too late your words, feeble weapons,

are no match for my teeth.


Come charge me, you sons of Hrothgar,

who will protect you?


My life’s a charm you can’t defeat,

so bleed, be quick my mother’s feast.


Hear me, Geat, come take a stab,

I’ll give you a running start.


By darkest skies, you’ll see the light,

Take my claw, I’ll help you up.

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