On the Hunt

My boots, they dash over the snow,

Already I know where to go.

An icy wind blows in my hair,

Prey shall be taken unaware.

…

None can escape this Viking's hands,

As I dash over the land.

Name's Erik, there is none faster,

Today fresh meat shall fill my larder.

…

I see a boar, it bares its teeth,

But soon its spirit is released.

With sling and knife I take my prey,

Another hunt, another day.

…

To my village I return,

People want meat and I won't spurn.

For I am Erik the Swift,

And I have bounty to give.