His worth endured a date.
At the corner of wooden low
Sat He, decider of day.
Himself a sacrament
Upon a wedding feast.

Adjudged a woodman’s breed
Came down to celebrant’s call.
Acts unknown in tunics white,
He sat amidst the local stones;
Health and wealth within His bones.

“O dear! the wine is finished.
The convener mustn’t hear.
His heart would lose the merry
And the bride may bridge a breath”,
…So said His mum divine.

“My time above is kept,
Why pull a string so tight?
That angels now on heels  
To do my bidding so.
…o woman! though my mum”.

“Tip the pots to top,
Dip from stream at spot.
Taste the cup from some
And send to chief at top
to taste the drip from crock”.

“Aha! the cheat is caught
That kept the best till late.
For we now drunk with waste
Have laced our thirst with liqs.
So sad our craves in kicks”.

Now, chief with all the guests
Hail bride in love with groom:
‘Dance at last for all is good!’,
But knew not how it worked,
Save mum and Son divine.