We would get to go across the snow,
We would get to run fast across the grass, laughing
We would get to wade to our knees in water
                                       and warm breezes,
We would get to kick high the drying leaves in piles,

That is when I was a child.

They would march in droves across snow and ice,
They would run fast into mayhem, across foreign grass fields, battle cries
They would push the long boats in water up to their knees
                                     bracing cold winds of journeys to discover,
They would get a kick out of conquest and ****** battles fought, for Valhalla
                                                    gates to open as smoke curled high and flames
                                                    fanned funeral pyres piled higher.


That was my ancestral family.

Not much has changed...?