Ascarot, the heroes hall,
   Stood upon a grassy hill,
Surrounded by a stony wall,
   And bordered by a bubbling rill,
And towering elm trees, round and tall.

Its spacious great room, full of song,
   Ebony doors and roof of thatch,
Its heroes, valiant, brave and strong,
   No other hall could hope to match,
For none had stood for half as long.

This very hall, in ages past,
   Was once a hut of wood and straw,
But, from the West, a brave outcast,
   Great Hrofwulf brought us peace and law,
And built a feast hall, rich and vast.

In Ascarot, the walls were jade,
   The floors were bronze and malachite,
The benches, teak, with gold inlaid,
   And sparkling marble polished white,
And ivory was the colonnade.

Hrofwulf gathered fearless men
   To guard the feast hall day and night;
Through training, and through discipline,
   They all learned how to stand and fight,
And numerous battles did they win.

From end to end inside the hall
   Their victory trophies were arranged,
And carefully placed upon the wall,
   And many stories were exchanged
About the taking of them all.

And in my fanciest attire,
   Amidst the cheerful feasting throng,
Upon a stool, beside the fire,
  I'd sit and sing our victory song
While strumming music on my lyre.

Or I would sing of what befell
   In days of old, the days of yore;
And stories I'd be asked to tell
   About our gloried Age of War,
'Til morn had bid the night farewell.

Oh! I remember well the tale
   Of how we fought Ringuld the Young!
We sailed right through an icy gale,
   And straight on up the fjord we swung,
And through surprise we did prevail.

I still remember Mark the Red,
   And how he fought against four men;
While arrows whistled past his head
   He pressed them back, and back again,
And swung his blade 'til all were dead.

So proud were we of Hulg the Strong,
   Who fought our foes upon the sea,
And nigh upon a fortnight long
   Warred against the Clan McGee,
We made his tale a battle song.

Remember when we fought the Danes?!
   But no, how could you, you weren't there;
We pushed them back across the plains,
   And finally made them all forswear
War with us while their life remains.

Ah! But that was long ago,
   And few now live who saw those times
When blood, as free as wine would flow,
   And more import was given to rhymes
About great deeds with sword and bow.

Those days are gone, forevermore,
   When clash of blade on helm and shield
Determined who had won the war,
   And what the losers had to yield
As pledge to their new governor.

And now we sit at break of dawn,
   You and I, by the dying flames;
We talk about a hall that's gone,
   And mention unremembered names
By all, save I---old Layamon.