A Song of Blood and Mead

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ElvenDale

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Far to the north where the howling wind
Whips the billows of the ocean grey
There lies a fair isle, good and green
Where Christian men did brew and pray

Long ago, on that Holy isle
Monks that dwelt there crafted mead
By Lindisfarne it shall be known
North of the Humber, south of the Tweed

Oh Lindisfarne mead
Of sweetest grapes and honey
Oh Lindisfarne mead
A fortifying medley

Cruel famine befell Northumbria
Fiery dragons streaked the sky
Suffering for all their sins
Fearful folk allowed did cry

Such signs there were, portents of doom
Whirlwinds, lightning and thunder
And there came a fleet of ships
Wreaking pillage and plunder

Heathen men of blade and shield
Across the roiling waves had rowed
And on that holy island spilled
The blood of monks, their deaths bestowed

They stole the gold and drank the mead
And by the Gods of old were blessed
For only such a mighty brew
For Valhalla was thought best

Oh Lindisfarne mead
Of sweetest grapes and honey
Oh Lindisfarne mead
A fortifying medley

More than a thousand years have passed
But still they brew that merry mead
There at St Aidan's winery
Where the winds whip the billows of the cold grey sea

Oh Lindisfarne mead
Of sweetest grapes and honey
Oh Lindisfarne mead
A fortifying medley

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