Young Lions and Southern Pirates Page 3

  Where the grey mist slowly swirled.

  His scarlet cape billowed behind

  Like a banner would unfurled.

  His autumn hair hung around his face,

  As pale as the waning moon;

  And he rode like a demon in the night

  'Lest daylight come too soon.

  His heart was thunder in his breast

  When his horse broke through the trees,

  And he saw her there with her golden hair

  Stirring softly in the breeze.

  A warm smile played upon her lips;

  He basked in the glow of it,

  As he sprang from his horse, down by her side,

  And he took her hand in his.

  They lay in the grass beside a stream

  That gurgled merrily;

  As she stroked his hair she sang a song

  As ancient as the trees:

  "Oh, where do the swans go when they fly

  And where do the white doves gather?

  Where are the ravens, where are the crows

  When the birds all flock together?

  Where is my love? When will he come

  To fulfill my heart's desire?

  Not 'til he's traveled the earth around

  And waded the sea of fire."

  When the song was done she kissed his cheek

  And the prince fell fast asleep.

  He dreamed of the maiden he had met

  That night in the forest deep.

  A distant voice like the rushing wind

  Called out the young man's name,

  "Pray, listen closely to these words

  If the maiden you would claim.

  Bewitched she was by a withered hag,

  And bewitched she'll always be,

  'Til a lover comes to break the spell

  With wisdom and bravery.

  Unravel the riddle of the trees

  And complete the tasks they cite.

  But a catch there is, as in all things,

  Must be finished in one night."

  When he woke the sky was splashed in gold

  And his lady love was gone,

  While above him flew a silver bird

  Shining brightly in the dawn.

  As it circled 'round the golden glade

  He leaped into his saddle

  And watched it as it winged it's way

  Above the forest's mantle.

  Far, far away he rode many days

  Through woods, 'cross fields and plains,

  Up rocky slope, down mountain paths,

  Through sunshine and the rains.

  Each day he followed the silver bird,

  Each night the maid came to him.

  She stroked his hair and sang her song

  'Til fitful sleep fell o'er him.

  Then by and by, he came to a glen

  All green with grass and ferny;

  A golden haze hung' round the trees

  And a waterfall was churning.

  Above his head a dark cloud formed;

  He thought the world had ended,

  For the voice was terrifying as

  A million birds descended.

  Every kind of flying fowl

  Was among the rainbowed mass

  That roosted on each branch and rock

  And settled in the grass.

  The sun dropped down beneath the rim,

  The maiden stood before him.

  The shadows wrapped them in a cloak;

  The pale moon shone above them.

  He held her close, his heart beat wild,

  To have the maiden near.

  "Here in this place alone may I speak,

  For the spell is weakest here."

  She told him of the withered hag

  In a castle made of stone

  Rising above a sea of fire

  In the land of Arradrone,

  And the magic boots she possessed

  That gave the wearer great speed;

  They were waterproof and fireproof

  And rose up to the knee.

  "You must find these wonderful boots,

  For with them you may fulfill

  The riddle of the ancient trees

  And break the witch's spell.

  "Then away I go to Arradrone

  When the sun gives it's first light."

  At dawn he leaped onto his horse

  And rode with all his might.

  About midday he entered the gate

  Of the land the old witch ruled.

  It was dark and dead, in grey and black,

  With slimy streams and pools.

  At last he came to an old stone well

  Where the water tasted sweet,

  But the moment that it touched his lips

  He fell heavily into sleep.

  He awoke imprisoned in a cell,

  Deep in the witch's dungeon.

  She came with a sword hung on her hip,

  In her hand was a bludgeon.

  Her face was yellowed, seamed with age,

  Her bilbus eyes were black.

  Her stringy hair hung limp and grey

  Across her crooked back.

  "My slave you are, my slave you'll be,

  'Less you prefer your grave.

  It matters not to me," she said.

  He replied I'll be your slave.

  Through weary days and weary nights

  He worked with ne'er a rest,

  And all the time his eyes would search

  Dark corners for his quest.

  And when a fortnight had elapsed

  He stumbled 'cross the prize.

  He hid them 'neath an old straw stack

  Awaiting the come of night.

  At last the sun fell from the sky

  And the hag went off to bed.

  He took the boots from their hiding place

  And around the earth he sped.

  When he returned he waded the sea

  Of flames that ringed the stone.

  Then with his sword he hacked the door

  'Til it gave way with a moan.

  The sky in the east turned gold and pink;

  There was morning in the air.

  In the great hall flew the silver bird

  And he followed up the stairs.

  Down twisted, winding, narrow halls,

  Up steep, forbidding stairways,

  Fear was with him every step

  As 'ginst time and fate he raced.

  Breathless, he reached the upmost room

  Where the door stood open wide.

  He drew his sword and looked about,

  Then slowly stepped inside.

  In the center of the chamber stood

  A bed of silver satin,

  And on it lay, as still as death,

  The body of the maiden.

  The silver bird flew 'round the room,

  Then landed on her forehead,

  Just as a glowing slice of sun

  Burst over the horizon.

  In a flash of light the bird was gone

  And the maid opened her eyes.

  Everything the witch had made

  Dimmed and faded 'neath the sky.

  Alone they stood, back in the glen,

  And his horse was by their sides.

  They rode away to his palace

  Where he made the girl his bride.

  The Unicorn

  A flake of snow fell from the sky

  When Gerabald gave his last sigh,

  And all around the icy hall

  A cloud of silence shrouded all.

  The knights looked down in helplessness,

  Their weapons useless in their hands.

  The unicorn sprang from her bed

  To see the marble face of death,

  A phantom she could never know,

  Nor could she understand.

  The awesome wonder that a king

  So great be changed to this cold thing.

  She laid
her head upon his breast

  As she oft' did when he, at rest,

  Would waken, laughing in her love,

  But no familiar twitch there was,

  Just cold unfeeling stone lay dead.

  She cried, returning to her bed,

  With golden tears that gently flowed

  For love of mortal man.

  The Warrior

  He was once baptized

  In fire and ice

  And the mark of the snake was on him,

  For he wore the brand

  Of the Cobra Band

  And the power of Duh-key-um.

  Once the long, cold nights

  Half hid his might;

  He was welcomed by the shadows.

  Then he stood in the sun

  And the seal of Glun

  Was fastened to his forehead.

  And he knew too soon

  That the kiss of doom

  Would press hard lips upon him.

  There was no escape

  From the hand of fate

  For his destiny rode to meet him.

  And meet they did

  Upon the lid

  Of the Eye of Mare-uh-chee-um.

  His blood was froze

  When the Yurrock rose

  From the great black pit beneath him.

  The day star glowed

  Like a scarlet rose

  In the purple sky above them,

  But they saw it not,

  Their eyes were locked

  On the Altar of La Teeum.

  For on it lay

  The golden blade,

  The sword of the Delton Temple;

  Forged by gods

  In the age of Taw,

  It was known as "The Invincible."

  The Yurrock hissed

  As his pale gray fist

  Made a grab for the golden prize,

  But the warrior threw

  His dagger true

  And it plunged deep in it's eye.

  The Yurrock shrieked,

  It was hell to see,

  As it writhed in it's agony.

  It's long tail thrashed

  'Til the rocks were smashed

  And flung to the distant sea.

  Then lightning flashed,

  The thunder crashed,

  As the warrior held aloft

  The flaming sword.

  The Yurrock's roar

  Gurgled down to a strangled cough.

  It read it's doom,

  The chill of the tomb,

  In the warrior's yellow eyes.

  "You can't afford

  To use that sword;

  The wielder too must die!"

  "Then die I shall,

  But hear me now,

  O' Yurrock 'fore I do

  I'll speed you well

  Back down to hell,

  You filth that Evil spewed!"

  With the rage of fire

  And the force of Dyre,

  He clove the beast asunder.

  Then in a flash

  Rock turned to ash;

  The warrior sank down under.

  He was sacrificed

  In fire and ice

  For the mark of the snake was on him.

  He wore the brand

  Of the Cobra Band,

  Born in the power of Duh-key-um.

  The Young Lion

  The young lion roared,

  And they cleared the floor,

  As he sauntered in the room.

  He was manhood's flower

  And he reeked of power,

  For his age was in full bloom.

  His golden mane

  Flowed wild, untamed,

  And his piercing eyes were cold.

  With shoulders broad,

  This fierce young god

  Was the hero tales foretold.

  He was brave and bold,

  Like men of old,

  And he eyed them with disdain.

  In his arrogance

  He forced a dance

  With the Lady of Bermain.

  Her protests fell

  Upon deaf ears

  As they whirled past her husband's bier.

  He held her tight

  Upon that night

  And the stars and the floor were theirs.

  The young man smiled

  As her sobs grew wild

  And her face grew ever greyer.

  The mourners cringed,

  She shrieked, "Revenge!"

  Still held by her husband's slayer.

  Then boldly in

  Came the dead man's kin,

  Their sword points dully gleaming.

  The old men cheered,

  The young men jeered,

  The women were all screaming.

  They came with a rush,

  The young lion thrust

  The widow from his path.

  She fell to the floor

  As he roared once more,

  His sword leaped in his hand.

  The church bell rang

  While their weapons clanged;

  He fought like a madman cursed.

  His rage increased,

  Fury unleashed,

  'Til he swore his head would burst.

  In each one's eyes

  He saw his wife,

  In blood lying where she fell.

  His heart inflamed,

  He spoke her name

  As he sent each one to hell.

  There was blood on the floor

  And blood on the door;

  The brothers all were killed

  When he left the room,

  Silent as a tomb,

  His vendetta now fulfilled.

  Thought the Sergeant to Himself

  "Never far away, it seems,

  Is the end of all my dreams,"

  Thought the sergeant to himself

  As he stood shouting.

  "They send orders now and then,

  Still the officers are men,

  And they often make mistakes

  When they start doubting.

  And an NCO can know,

  But he cannot tell them so,

  For it simply isn't done

  In this man's army.

  He just marches through the gate

  With his heart all full o' hate

  And his thoughts all tempest tossed

  And ragin' stormy.

  It's hard to make 'em go

  When every man there knows

  That the officer in charge

  Is a disgrace;

  And it's him who's payin' dear

  'Cause the order wasn't clear

  And the Captain ain't too sure

  About the place.

  Some might come through this alive,

  But it's most of us who'll die;

  A sacrifice to a mistake,

  We vainly fought,

  But when it's all said and done,

  It's the officers who've won

  The bleedin' war, the rest of us

  Are just forgot."

  Through The Ages

  Their mouths were hollow graves

  That beckoned fools,

  Like pawns on great black boards,

  Like silvered tools;

  They reached their gnarled hands

  'Cross spans of time

  To pluck from sanctuary

  Shattered mimes.

  With soured breaths they blew

  Great clouds of dust

  That rose in the scarlet sky

  Of morning's blush.

  From it mammoth stones were formed

  And temples raised

  With finely chiseled altars

  Where jesters prayed.

  Empty bodies without souls

  Spoke empty lines

  While mumbling catchecisms

  To the divine ---

  Some obscure puppet, well hid

  From prying eyes;

 
All bow before and worship

  Their great lie.

  They laughed in merriment

  To see the fools

  Led astray so easily;

  Truth overruled

  By lust and greed, by fantasies,

  By glory's dream,

  By magnificent idols

  With golden gleam.

  Still, the ages blew away

  Each grain of sand

  These monuments, once great,

  No longer stand

  Up to the sky, but cower

  Low and humble;

  Now the once proud Faithful question,

  Fall and stumble,

  Far above the crowd they frown

  In disbelief,

  Not able to understand

  They no longer lead.

  Their falsehoods cut far deeper

  Than a serpent's tooth,

  For wisdom will win out;

  Truth leads to truth.

  Through The Fire And The Fury

  Through the fire and the fury,

  With passions all emblazed,

  We go marching off to glory;

  Free a world that's been enslaved.

  And there isn't any question

  In our hearts or in our minds;

  We know we'll be victorious,

  We have right on our side.

  Inside our hearts are singing

  As we tramp the dusty roads,

  Never wondering where they're leading,

  We just follow where they go.

  Yes, we won the final vict'ry,

  But it came as quite a shock;

  In our innocence we never heard

  Of calculated loss.

  Now the crosses are all standing,

  Gleaming white beneath the sun,

  And there's memories of lifetimes

  That are crammed into just one.

  My soul is sick and weary

  From things I saw and did,

  But they marched us home as heroes

  So we keep these feelings hid.

  Two Winds

  Two winds blew out of the north and east

  On the fourteenth day of St. Simmon's feast

  And there came from the south a fearsome beast

  Who's howl shook the earth and the sky.

  The drums thundered and trumpets blew,

  The gates were flung wide, and passing through,

  An army, all clothed in coats of blue,

  Galloped forth with their spirits high.

  Their cold metal swords were all gleaming,

  While their scarlet banners were streaming

  And they rode into battle not dreaming

  That men such as they could die.

  There was blood on the plain, blood on the hill;

  The army lay strewn 'cross the battlefield;

  Prayers went out for a warrior with skill

  The curse of the beast to defy.

  Then from the ranks of the drunkards rose

  A challenger, wrapped in leather clothes

  With a golden sword, polished 'til it glowed,

  Hung heavy on one side.

  The villagers stared as they held their breaths,

  Looking straight into eyes as black as death,

  But they knew they were sending their very best,

  So, they nodded, satisfied.

  The warrior lay crumbled, battered and torn,

  And shattered, the golden sword once borne

  With pride, now tossed aside with scorn.