His worth endured a date.
At the corner of the wooden low
Sat He, the decider of the day.
Himself, the Life and the Sacrament
Upon a wedding, an honour to give.

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

“O, dear! The wine is finished
And 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 the top,
Dip from the stream at the spot.
Taste the cup from some
And send to the chief at the top
To taste the drip from the 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 the groom:
Tell them dance for all is good!,
But knew not how it worked,
Save Mum and Son divine.