The Fall of Agor, the Plunderers

(Rough drinking-hall ballad sung to rile a tavern)

Agor came with iron loud,
Torches high and banners proud,
But Iron Isle does not kneel—
Its gates are stone, its heart is steel!

The bells were rung, the shields were braced,
The street ran red with bitter taste—
Yet still the towers watch the shore,
For Agor sleeps—but comes once more.