About the Poem
This was written while in the Society for Creative Anachronism, for the Barony of Bonwicke (Lubbock, TX). Unfortunately, I could not make it to the event, so not many have heard this one....until now.
Ode To A Sneeze |
| by Alastair Adamson |
| I From the mountains of the north Riding winter's storm Came a beast of dubious worth: A great and baneful Wyrm. Wings of leather slowly beat Racing with the sun. Liquid flame streams down Coating all with searing heat; Life and nature now undone He searches for another town. II How did such a thing emerge From the bowels of the earth? Did Heaven send us this scourge To curb our unruly mirth? For many years his ugly head Lay silent, as our grand-sires told Us of its cruel and vicious acts When the child-less king was dead. Wyrm then came (e'en then 'twas old) And made, for virgins, pacts. III Four and seventy peasant girls died When there came a mighty man, He the Wyrm would thus defy; He hatched a shrewd and crafty plan. But the nobles quaked in fear And terror shook each knee Each thinking that he might succeed; For they knew the Wyrm would sear The townships they once did flee And thence did find a desperate need. IV They knew of the Wyrm's coming, They knew of his dreaded flight; They knew of the villages burning, They saw fire-spouts in the night. Every noble then made haste To secure his treasured land Ere the coming of the fire. Wyrm above craved the taste Of slender maidens soon at hand; A chance to vent his fearsome ire. V The Barony of Bonwicke furiously flew To prepare the snare ere the duel. (The man had dug a pit; they knew That he would serve as dragon fuel!) And at this pit they set their bait: A peasant girl, white as milk, And barrels of spice, a tonne or two. There in his pit the man did wait Experienced in dragons and their ilk, Although his kills, they numbered few. VI The Wyrm to earth then did go As pepper was floated on the breeze. The man made his gallant show The moment that the Wyrm did sneeze. The fiery blast engulfed the man The second that he left his pit, His moment in the hands of Fate. The man fried in his roasting pan As a pig upon a spit. The girl the Wyrm did satiate. VII Northward then the Wyrm flew Everything according to plan. On he flew with pact anew. Next year there'd be another man. A townsman, with toothy grin, Removes the smoking ashes. (He does exactly as he's told.) Festivities, the Dragon-Dance, begin As his equipment joins the other stashes Now five and seventy, all told. |
Want to send the author a private email? If we have a current address, we'll send your message to them for you.
If you especially appreciated this author, we'll be happy to show you where you might find more of their poems