Faroe speak

I have watched and heard their vitriol
Their wickedness and know
The pods are entirely innocent
Murdered in the flow
By a bunch of sinful islanders
Who farm salmon and catch birds
Steeped in the iniquity
And really lost for words

They know little of
innocence
Of the freedom of gods will
How babes with all their sucklings
Often they do kill
Guileless callow creatures
Murdered in plain sight
By thieves by villianous rascals
That would perish in pure light

Harping back to history
To tradition and to when
Their forefathers and ancestors caught whales
And ofcourse then
Were heroes, their integrity never in question they
Were warriors
Their present lack of contrition
Lights their way

Hardened bringing despair to the pods who die
To the people who must witness
The crimson surfs that fly
Unashamed and unblushing
Who never show remorse
These present day islander murderers
Of angels now by force