The Dead King's Horn

The Dead King's Horn

The rising sun will hear a horn,
Ringing out like a sour thorn,
It shall call out to the dying king,
And to the bells for them to sing,
A single blade will carry the deed,
Of such corruption is by greed,
The brother is thow that curse the land,
As death thrusts out his skinless hand,
A widow shall remove here silver ring,
To honor the fall of her beloveded king.

The King's Ring

The King’s Ring

In days of old,

When men were bold,

And kings ruled the land.

There was a king,

With a silver ring,

Up on his right hand.

The ring was carved with runes,

Of old merry tunes,

With joy and delight.

But one day,

The King would say,

And yell out in spite.

“The Ring is gone!

A crime of wrong!

Among me are thieves!

I’ll search every house!

Till they are announced!

And hang them from the trees!”

He searched all day,

Till the only way,

Was strange sorcery.

And with this trick,

He found quick,

The men were hanged from a tree.

Roland Coldheart

Roland Coldheart

The men went of to Haderlode,
Their wolves in the lead,
Off to catch the thief and crook Roland Cold.

They searched all day and night until their feet were cold,
Staying in a tavern to rest and gather speed,
Roland would be around that town so the stories told.

At dusk they found Roland’s Stronghold,
And his mighty stead,
Off to catch the theif and crook Roland Cold.

They found in his lair stacks of silver and gold,
More than they’d ever need,
The men went off to Haderlode,

In the market the horse they went and sold,
And bought food for their mouths to feed,
Off to catch the theif and crook Roland Cold

They set out to find that marauder, all brave and bold,
For every year of their search they added a single bead.
The men went of to Haderlode,
Off to catch the theif and crook Roland Cold.