Snorri av Alfheim | Saw the start of an age
All the Norse had bowed | At the feet of the Shadow
Or swore their strength | On the sword of the Devil
Or were driven away | Out by the Reindeer King
Swore Snorri to be a king | So to never bow to another
Thus reads his tale | That of tragedy and triumph
In the land of Eire | It was poor and pitiable
They say the men lived in dirt | That the women ate ground stone
Yet this land was a start | Yea, a place to forge kings
So Snorri did sail | So Snorri did conquer
And lo! Snorri did conquer | All lands of Strangfjorðr
He called himself king | Had become known for his deeds
Then he continued his conquest | To one day rule all Eire
During his conquest | Did he sire a son;
Rognvaldr av Alfheim | Robust and mighty was he to be
Lo! For he conquered Irland | Like he had sworn many moons prior
A name had Snorri made | As a feared warrior and good king
But his ambition | Borne of the stars
Sent him beyond Irland | Seeking new shores
He took land in Wales | He conquered the Isle of Mann
And he did sire a second son | A boy born of woman not married
Hroðgar the Young | Holy yet unwhole
Snorri ruled well | So for five years
He was king | High in Ireland
And yea! For Snorri had | Adored that land
And knowing love | At the people he ruled
Snorri left his hall | So he could live in Irland
The great king left Norway | To spend his days in Eire
And he did give to his friend | Akershus, his hall
But Snorri did speak unto him: | "Baldr, I trust you Akershus
And its hinterlands and retinues | Akershus, high hall of Raumariki
You must swear to me | Yea, use them for good
Bring light to the world | Be an explorer, a hero, a king
And make these men proud | As their king and friend
Friend, this you must swear." | For Snorri knew a life with no legacy is a life wasted
Baldr did swear "Yea, I shall use this hall | Bardels and triumphs both
And seek glory and honor." | And Snorri did leave Norway for ever.
Many winters passed | Mighty Snorri sat as king
His wife, fair Vigdis, did bore him | Her womb gave but one son
So Snorri met Mor | Sweet maid of Irland
And as they lay together | After Snorri took his pleasure
She did speak unto him of Jesus | So Snorri listened
For Snorri was a heathen | False idols did he worship
They demanded sacrifice | They brought great terror
And Snorri did hear tales of mercy | A love he did not know
So Snorri did find God | So Snorri did find Jesus
Summers and winters passed | Snorri's children did grow
His jarls found Christ | He sired another son
The fields and harvests were bountiful | There was peace
But Ru, a northern Pict | Bearer of skin-tapestries, lord of the north
Felt that Mann should be his | For he did wage war
Ru knew not | Regarding Snorri's strength
Snorri led Ru's men | Straight on to Mann
And there they were trapped | And there they were slaughtered
Though Snorri was a man of God | The heathen warrior still slumbered inside his heart
And with it Snorri led his men | At the Great Battle of Mann
But lo! Snorri died young | Battle was where he fell, taken by sadness
For he concealed an inner madness | Foul, ill-tempered evil
And Snorri wished to die | As he slew his enemies
Borne upon a ship | Buried at sea, Snorri was
The boat was set alight | The raven banner fluttering
His family did weep | His jarls paid him homage
Rognvaldr, Hroðgar, and the son of Mor | Rose to his throne and lands
Young, his sons were | Yet they showed great promise
Cattle die, kindred die | Every man is mortal
But the good name never dies | Of one who has done well.
(Snorri died of depression, but that didn't seem quite right for the guy who united Ireland under one banner. I took this as a compromise.)