Wednesday, September 16, 2009

The Man with Dark Red Hair

There once was a man with dark red hair.
He lived on his own on a mountain in a boat.
To be honest his location could not be more remote.
People came to visit him because he was old and wise.
They all knew this because ordinary comforts he despised.
His wisdom, it was said, was rooted in his head.
In his hair, in fact, so long it covered his bed.
They'd come to ask him questions about life and other things.
He felt obliged to answer, if only for the joy his answers bring.
Not once was this man ever wrong.
The people were always praising his wisdom in their song.
'Til one day, after aiding a woman with no child's cares,
and a young boy with an unreasonable fear of bears,
he tried to console a old man who had no will to die.
"My goodness!" he said "you're nearly as old as I."
And as if he meant to lead the soul by good example,
he lay right down and died. I think his example would be ample.
The poor old man, seeing peace upon the face
of the wise one, took his place.
And can be found to this day on that mountain in that boat.
Though today the location is not remarkably remote.
He's now the old man with dark red hair.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Twelve Brave Knights

Twelve knights with their swords held up high
and glist'ning helms upon their heads
walked out to battle, win or die
no more to feel th'warmth of their beds

Twelve warriors 'round a table sat
and drank the health of lord to be
and fed on game 'til they were fat
A night like none again they'd see

Twelve men give farewells to their wives
to sons and daughters: pride, redoubt
They leave their loved ones, pledge their lives
for lord and country they head out

Twelve boys with sticks and packs leave home
leave parents standing in the hall
to seek their fortune on their own
until the sup-bell calls them all