Coming in swarms
Out of the sky
Forming an iron cross
Then they divide
Only the smells of death will follow them
Galleys that fly
Out of the north
Painting the sky-ways red
Only the swiftest will challenge them
Iron and swords
Poisonous arrows fly
Into the hordes
Only the stoutest stock of northern men
— Slough Feg, "Sky Chariots"
With a crew of drunken pilots, we're the only airship pirates!
We're full of hot air and we're starting to rise
We're the terror of the skies, but a danger to ourselves
— Abney Park, "Airship Pirates"