Nelson’s Memorial

When the sailor went to sea
He heard every shanty under the sun
His favourite was a Drop Of Nelson’s Blood
Hard bastard that Horatio
So goddamn legendary his men pickled him in rum
They drank his essence to stay strong
To carry his spirit through the ages
The sailor thought about it
Every time he knocked back a tot
“Forget that cremation and coffin shite.
Bury me at sea in a barrel of rum.”
He told his buddies
Years later,
When the sailor was old, grey and passed away
His buddies chipped in for a barrel
Sent him on down to Fiddler’s Green
So he could raise a cup with Lord Nelson
And shares stories of the sea.

Witch King

When the barrier between the real and the ethereal
is at its thinnest
the Witch King appears
to share stories from beyond the veil
tales woven into libations
that taste of wildfire and summer solstice
See her walk in valleys
permeated with bohemian dreams
holding festivals in nature’s honour
where folk drink and forget their troubles
come morning
the Witch King returns to her realm
with yarns spun by the fireside
to carry them into the next night
for those who believe in magic
and those who do not