I circle kings but wear no crown, A silent guard that won’t back down. Not wall nor gate, yet I defend, What am I that rings the end?

A bear of fame, one with dashes in his name, though most had no idea, as Hollywood is to blame. A magical forest is where I dwell, with many a woodland creature I call friend. Think of a boy, whose imagination is great, though in real life, he truly began to hate, the fame that this bear-of-his caused.

The carrier of death Many called me a plague I've been used to test science For the smart and depraved

We pillage and kill, we take what we will, From people, from towns, chasing the thrill. Across England’s lands, we left our fierce mark, Savage and brutal, a shadow in the dark. Gods are our plenty, we hope to join them high, Ship-bound we wander, under rune-strewn sky. Who are we, these travelers of old?

The sixth out of seven, In Leviathan’s den, Forbidden by heaven, In the tenth out of ten. To Goethe, I’m yellow, To Shakespeare, I’m green, I see all that you have, And I want what I’ve seen.