Pipe down, poem incoming.
Last night saw the Harnkegger Games poetry and story competition on Laurelin. I had toyed with writing an entry, but time has been a bit of an issue lately.
I had a look in my archives, where I store song ideas, poem drafts and story sketches that I haven’t finished, for various reasons. Deep down there, beneath a pile of biscuit crumbs, I found the first draft of a song I started on four years ago. I had even tried at the Green Dragon back in the day (set to the tune of Kenny Roger’s Coward of the County), but without being completely satisfied. It already had a rather steady rhythm, suitable for a poem.
So, I axed the chorus, tinkered and tweaked the remaining lines to keep more or less to my chosen rhythm, and ended up with the poem below. And listen up well, because yer can learn somet from this one nods sagely. Should yer want more poems, I have some over here.
Of love and trickery
Lotho was a feeble lad, his arms as thin as splinters
Not exactly handsome, with a laugh that made yer wince
Everybody knew that Lotho had his eyes on Rosie
‘I will dance with her, and I will be her prince’
Rumours spread about a jolly party in the Shire
Courses three and drinks for free, and dancing all night long
Lotho waited night and day to get his invitation
When no letter came, he went to join the throng
There beneath the party tree, he had a drink of porter
Straight ahead the lass he’d wed, if only she’d agree
Other lads they swarmed around and kept her ever busy
‘Time fer tricks and pranks’, he rubbed his hands with glee
Sneaking near the bustling crowd, he reached inside his backpack
Grinning wide and looking snide, he filled his lungs with air
Squeezing hard he blew into his father’s ancient bagpipes
‘This will make them run, and leave the maiden fair’
No-one could explain the utter chaos that descended
Laddies yelped with cries of help, they ran toward the hills
Tables turned and ale-kegs burned, and Rosie lost her manners
Lotho heard her scream, a howl that gave him chills
Late at night the party hosts were sifting through the carnage
Weeping shrill and looking ill, Lotho clutched a rag
‘Never let a hobbit lassie catch yer playing bagpipes’
‘She will break the pipes, and make yer eat the bag’