The Ale Was Cold, The Nights Were Magic #TheTavern

I took a few weeks off to heal my body from several work-related injuries and spent many days on the lake fishing and brainstorming song ideas. My friend Chris introduced me to Dark Country and some of those songs are published in my pinned songs. I also got into a heavy metal kick and read some Norse mythology books. Anyway, after many cold beers on the dock, and staring at the sky each night, this song was born. Raise a tankard and thanks for listening!!! Cheers! -------------------------- At the edge of the world where the stormwinds wail, The gods once gathered with horns of ale, Odin’s eye burned in the firelight’s glow, While Thor’s great hammer shook the halls below. We carved our runes on the oaken beams, And drank to the end of forgotten dreams. The ale was cold, the nights were magic, Songs of glory, fierce and tragic! Raise your horn to the sky, let the thunder roll, For the mead of the gods still fires the soul! The skalds sang tales of the wolves unchained, Of Ragnarök’s fire and a world aflame, But we laughed at doom as the longships swayed, And drowned our fear in the drink we made. The runes still whisper, the halls still call, Where the brave once feasted, we echo it all. The ale was cold, the nights were magic, Songs of glory, fierce and tragic! Raise your horn to the sky, let the thunder roll, For the mead of the gods still fires the soul! "Drink! Drink! To the Allfather’s might! Fight! Fight! Through the endless night!" The ale was cold, the nights were magic, Songs of glory, fierce and tragic! Raise your horn to the sky, let the thunder roll, For the mead of the gods still fires the soul!