The Saga Of Cnut Slugshaw  

 

It was over a thousand years ago

In the year nine-seventy one

When a dragon-headed Viking ship

Came sailing up the Don

 

And at the helm was Ragnar Slugshaw

That infamous Viking brute

Who’d brought along his little brother

The lad they called Cnut

 

Cnut was quite an ‘andsome lad

But naïve, with an un-blooded sword

For this was his maiden outing

The first time that he’d left their fjord

 

The last words their mother said to Ragnar

As they left that far-away land

Were “look after your little brother”

“Take care, and hold on to his hand”

 

But Cnut was tenacious and headstrong

Seeking glory above all other

He wouldn’t listen to Òðin, nor Thor

And certainly not to his brother

 

Grymsteinn was an easy site to raid

An undefended village

An ideal place to first-blood his sword

A dead easy hamlet to pillage

 

Cnut was chomping at the bit      

He’d a reputation to make

He couldn’t wait to plunder and pillage

For himsen, and for Òðin’s sake

 

“Hang tight a moment” said Ragnar

While he looked for somewhere to park

But it was market day, and the best spots were taken

By every man and his ark

 

The only spots left were disabled bays

And whether you believe it or not

It’s an unwritten rule among Vikings

They’ll not park in a disabled spot

 

So he moored his ship upstream a bit

Where the banks were claggy with sludge

And they had to wade the last ten yards

Then suffer an uphill trudge

 

But the bank was too boggy for poor Cnut

He sank in the mud, and he died

His un-blooded sword fixed firm in his hand

And his battle-axe strapped to his side

 

So would he get to see Valhalla?

Had he suffered a warrior’s death?

His fate was now in the hands of the gods

As the mud took his very last breath

 

Perhaps it was Loki, up to his tricks

Or had Thor took control of his fate

For instead of letting him see Valhalla

They just played a trick with the date

 

They’d brought him back to the self-same spot

But a thousand years further on

Cnut just assumed that he’d reached Valhalla

But it was nineteen-seventy-one 

 

A lot had changed in Grymsteinn since then

Or Grimstone, as it was now called

Cnut took up his sword, and his battle-axe

And went looking for Òðin’s Great Hall

 

And he came to a pub called the Feathers

Which he assumed was Valhalla itsen

So he stripped himsen down to his fighting thong

And he entered that treacherous den

 

“Tha can’t come in ‘ere dressed like that” said the bouncer

“Or…. should I say undressed more like”

“We’ve a dress-code, and thy ‘asn’t met it”

“So ‘op it….. On yer bike”

 

He din’t even know what a bike was

So he argued “But I’m Cnut!”

“Aye, I can see that” said the bouncer

“And that’s why I told thi t’ scoot”

 

The bouncer kicked him out, and dumped him

Unceremoniously out on the grass

It surprised a woman, walking by

To see a Viking lad… sat on his ass

 

It was Gladys Thrupp… the former stunner

And in case you need a reminder

She no longer worked in the abattoir

Her stunning days were behind her

 

She eyed the mighty Viking lad

Semi-naked, and covered in tattoos

And thought, in for a penny, in for a pound

What have I got to lose?

 

He had a tattoo of a dragon on each arm

On his chest he had one more

But what really impressed Gladys was

He had one draggin’ on the floor

 

She looked him up and down a bit

And said “Are you comin, back t’ mine”

You may not see Valhalla

But I’ll show thi a bloody good time