The Massacre at Verden

In Verden

They fell;

One by one

Saxons all

Five hundred plus four thousand

Beneath the old council tree

Each tribal chieftan's head did fall.

Long lines of men

Beneath alder trees tall.

A breeze moved their beards,

But they could not see.

It was overcast

The sun was blind

The sky did not witness,

But flowing them beside,

Through reeds, the river Aller spoke:

Sons of ancient pride,

Why stand you in silence

Long lines, somber eyed?

One giant with braided mane

Hands lashed to point of pain

He heard the river and he spoke:

Mother of Saxons and Germans old,

From Charlemagne the new king

Of Christ a new god we were told;

Now his praises we must sing

Renounce our tribal faith and blood

'Else drown beneath the Frankish flood.

Charlemagne says:

Pagan Chiefs! Kneel to Christ and kiss his feet.

Saxon, lower your eyes and incline your brow-

Or by the holy cross, our swords will be fleet

Axes shall fall on they who do not bow.

The river Aller sighed:

Saxon, ancient son, I know.

My waters with blood do flow.

A river of death have I become.

So the line progressed,

And they fell

One by one

With bound hands

Under bloody axe

Saxons all

Five hundred plus four thousand

Beneath the old council tree

Each chieftan's head did fall.

The river ran bloody

Red stain upon the land

Charlemagne killed the chiefs

Converting their tribes to Christ,

Under the old Saxon council tree 

The stack of heads and bodies did grow

While blood into the river Aller flowed.