Weyland’s Smithy

Within each chamber of your belly
I took a glug of ancient fire
And outside upon your age-old back
I raised the drunken bottle high
till it overflowed with umber-amber light
that shone through the moon’s sweet shine

And I called to my ancestors of the north and the south
And I called to the east and the west
And I poured from the bottle a generous dram
and I asked the earth that they be thanked
and I asked that they be blessed

And I pitched my tent upon their tomb
wrapped myself in whisky’s warmth
sang lullabies to a drunken moon
Then woke to the chill of the cusp of dawn
with my grandfathers’ blessings upon my crown

And my horse was shod
And my coin was gone