Friday, July 15, 2011

In the Khaliganus Isles

That being done, Kilduff put a sizeable hole in his bragot, wiped the spillings off his chin, and struck up again with his lute and descanted thus:
            In the Khaliganus Isles when their God-King dies
            His wives they do themselves murder
            On the seventh day post-mortem
            In a glade gathered all of them
            Encircled  awaiting the sun
            With curved blades their necks
            At first light lay them open
            Their shades whither their life's blood stains the grass
            And, lo one day one balked and did hinder
            Her hand her knife she did stay
            And her sister-wives' eyes they did follow
            This girl's retreating form as it was swallowed
            By the mountains as they slipped away
            What anger in those eyes what envy what defeat
            What cold heart could bear witness
            And not pity to see them meet
            Their doom in such a manner in such a setting in such distress
            Not forsaking the one who fled
            For before day's end
            The villagers made sure that she, too, was dead

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