Weyland’s Smithy

Within each empty 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 sweet moonshine

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

And I pitched my tent upon their tomb
and sang whisky 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