Ogham the Blade

Ogham The Blade

Anrad we have stripped the birch,

to supplant with branch of steel.

Cold sun spurge, the spark extinguished,

score another notch on haft and shield.

We drunkship of cobblers on a sea of rain,

our marsh of diseases, our magic a blade.

Call upon the blade, harness the pain.

Burn down quert and sail, gort in the rain.

Anrad we cast down the gentle thorn,

for scarred gods’ seasoned bark.

Bonfire burn the stars extinguished,

we ogham piss the land our mark.

A disorder of sparks, our will firebrand red,

our fire is survival all magic is dead.

Call upon the blade, harness the pain.

Burn down quert and sail, gort in the rain.