Of The Rage Of Skadi She of the storm-sky sent down snow-squalls Blowing down birches snuffing out hearth-fires. Deep were the snow-drifts dour was the cold and sharp the wind-bite throughout the northland. Huddled under bearskins in our bedsteads, shivered we sorely, sighing for mercy to Thor’s consort, fearing the doom and death of our
All I want for Christmas Is an end to constant war. But that has always been too much To ask the Prince of Peace for.
He flies around the world and visits the homes of countless children in a single night. He sees the children when they’re sleeping and knows when they’re awake. He knows if they’ve been bad or good. He rewards the good ones and punishes the bad ones. He hears prayers, answers those of the virtuous, and
Seven turkeys strut away, thankful that no-one ate them with gravy.
As I get older, I get stupider. Still me, more mortal daily.
The right to bear arms, interpreted by a strict constitutionalist, would mean that every citizen could carry a muzzle-loading musket or pistol.
Innocent people shot dead again. Nobody wants to blame firearms.