The Claw of the Storms

O’er pastures borne
o’ fields of green
The river I follow,
its waters clean
With the flow, I ride,
‘til my heart doth cling
To pastures borne
o’ fields of green

O’er wildlands borne
o’ skies serene
The rain doth fall,
its waters clean
‘Til Greengrass cometh,
returnéd to me
Old friendships borne
o’ fields of green

—“The Claw of the Storms”
(Northland verse)