It was his brightest famous year,
Warriors; friends as rivals; could hear,
His plan merely few months ago,
But back then it seemed an empty show.
Though they believed him in his rage,
The greatest warlord of his age,
Everyone trembled before his ambition,
Yet they were impressed by his iron condition.
A glorious city at this time,
Marked by riches’ golden shine,
Was his target nothing more,
That was what they set sail for.
One hundred and twenty longships made their way,
Countless Vikings on them to slay,
Pillage and rape everything on their path,
Spreading far the Northmen’s wrath.
Marauding their way down long river Seine,
Raiders felt blood pulsing in every vein,
Soon the poor Frenchmen were hanging from trees,
Slowly dandled by the breeze.
As the majestic walls appeared on the horizon,
The Viking hordes were realizing,
Without a plan no easy task,
And there was just one man to ask.
The one who brought them all along,
A hero extolled in every song,
Made them settle at Seine’s shore,
Decrying Paris his bog and it’s princess his whore.
The Vikings they were busy bees,
Building engines out of trees,
A few weeks later was the siege,
All they needed was a breach.
The defense made the Vikings pay,
Walls rejected every raider’s stay,
Tall and brutal men found their end,
Every intruder lost a friend.
A defeat for the most but not so for him,
His pensive frown now truly grim,
He had to find another door,
Before losing even more.
Their attack had way more impact than expected,
“Those Vikings can do worse” was what the French king suspected,
Charles the Bald was hiding in fear,
For him there was nothing scarier than a Viking’s spear.
He offered to pay them in silver and gold,
That was the plan of dear Charles the Bald,
The Vikings were killers but dazzled by treasure,
So, they accepted Charles’ offer with pleasure.
For normal men that would be it,
But this chieftain had to admit,
There was even more to sack,
His raiders would be back.
This wolf of a men came up with a ruse,
Being of a fatal use,
Studying their religion he came up with that,
In cognition that it made them blind as a bat.
Those Christians they were real fools,
With fictive words as only tools,
Any attention their belief draws,
Was now used for the Viking’s cause.
The legend has it that he faked his own death,
Wishing with his “final” breath,
To be baptized and buried a Christian style,
Inside of the walls which should be worth its while.
Bishop as king had to agree,
Expecting the weakened barbarians to flee,
A grave mistake as the “dead” arose,
Proving truly lethal foes.
As the ancient gates opened for the rest,
They put their criminal skills to the test,
Not leaving a single piece where it stood,
Bashing through Paris like the flood.
Like that he got everything instead of mere tribute,
That’s how his epic saga continued,
This legendary chieftain’s name,
Even today still covered in fame,
Still feared by many and whom to blame,
And known to France as humiliating shame,
Was Ragnar king of Denmark,
Europe’s rivers’ deadly shark.