The Bard as Bridegroom
by cricketjeff on October 17, 2008. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
His skin was white like stars at night
His sword shone like the sun
He took delight to tell each night
The sagas he had spun
A mighty King with joy to bring
The birds took wing to hear him sing
A fine rosette of hair like jet
And cheeks blushed like a rose
His soul regret he’s unwed yet
And how his ardour grows
This mighty Prince whose deeds evince
The favoured tints of sword-light glints
She lost her heart before the start
Of every tale he told
Was torn apart by such an art
Learned from the bards of old
He set on sale each well wrought tale
From Ahab’s whale to Martha’s pail
This poet’s skills gave her a thrill
She offered him her hand
She loves him still and calls him Will
A name all understand
And now they’re wed their needs well fed
Those sagas led to beauty’s bed
For poets always win
English