In truth I would prefer a simple hat.
The old wolf head's malodorous and foul,
but one must keep appearances, and that
is paramount, besides, they like my howl.
My warriors, oh how they loved my dad.
The old man led us true, through thick and thin,
but now it is my turn, and I am glad.
Who cares, for this I'll wear some ancient skin.
The battle axe? Now that's a different thing.
Who doesn't like to smash a helpless shield?
I live for war, the glory it will bring.
No, not for me the farming of a field
As winter's snow is covering the grass,
I hope the day is ours, if Freya grants,
and then I shall get drunk, not just one glass.
And next time, I shall surely wear some pants.
Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2790510-Heroic-Fantasy-208
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