Verse of the Jagged Crown

(The complete version of the Verse of the Jagged Crown that Galmar Stone-Fist recites. I wrote this up this evening and plan to include it in the next release of the Unofficial Morrowloot-Skyrim Overhaul, which has been long delayed but well on its way to being completed. I have drawn inspiration from Zaric Zharkaron's "What if Skyrim Was Good" series, specifically for a concept of how a dragon-slaying weapon might be built using the Old Magic of the Nords.)

Veiled behind his mask of snow,
Which dragons breathed of silver stone,
Calling dead from depths below,
The Crow Thane in his Hall of Bone.

Men thrown to the White Wyrm's maw,
Women, bairns of Winter's Hold,
Spoke he oaths to dragons' law,
Woke he lord of wights and mold.

Wails and tears the wine-wives pine,
For warriors left in blood to drown,
Comes the son of Ysgrim's line,
A young boy in a Jagged Crown.

Nordmen gathering to his calls,
Bearing spears and axes long,
Kin avenging ravaged halls,
Bold and desperate their throng.

Strong are the draugrs' monstrous blows,
Striking skulls of fyrd-men red,
Hundreds lost unto the snows,
Hundreds for the hungering dead.

Ascending arch of jokull-snow,
On sleigh of spruce by mammoth drawn,
Arrows broken on his brow,
No blow may pierce the Jagged Crown.

Charging men in freezing mail,
Ripping rotting flesh and bone,
Harsh the Crow Thane's cursing wail:
The White Wyrm shall break Ysgrim's Throne.

Rending rebel heart and lung,
Of Crow Thane to his tomb hurled down,
Round his neck he wears the tongue,
The warrior of the Jagged Crown.

Feasting warms the ancient walls,
Of valiant men returning home,
The dead released to Sovngarde's halls,
No longer damned the white to roam.

Roaring sea of deathly hail,
Tearing at Old Windhelm's stone,
Falls the dragon's boasting wail:
The White Wyrm shall break Ysgrim's Throne.

Grey the Crow Thane's snowy veil,
By dragons forged of whispers lost,
Reshaped into a spear of pale,
By the Storm Voice, blood and frost.

White Wyrm's wings in shadowed flight,
Whispering death to lands beneath,
Halls and steads engulfed in night,
Armies shattered in his breath.

Maw unleashing razor snow,
Of dragons from the blue brought down,
Births the walking winter's woe,
The High King in his Jagged Crown.

Sharp the White Wyrm's howling song,
Splits the High King's bones and mail,
Breathing life through torc of tongue,
The spear of fate strikes dragon's scale.

By spear and shout, the dragon's pain,
Breaking scale with singing tone,
The White Wyrm at long last, now slain,
And it could not break Ysgrim's Throne.

By judgment born of war and woe,
The proudest clans and thanes kneel down,
To spear and tongue and breath of snow,
The High King in his Jagged Crown.