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A Rough Stone Ax When I was a lad, not yet a rogue, we sailed an icy morn'; at the helm stood Mōg – I shivered from cold, and shook from great fear; My teeth chattered loudly; I feared they'd hear;Mōg wished to take, Óle Hellström's keep, and planned that day to upon his foe creep – For Óle had slain, Mōg's youngest son; as Mōg would have it, vengeance be done;Our boatful of reavers hit the sand at dawn, which I lept in the water to drag the boat 'pon – We rowed all night to catch Hellström asleep, that Mōg might be assured a victory to reap;How had Óle knew? How, by Ódin, would I know? I was a boy - fit to labor and row – In my fist was o...