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jeff-stierPoems
Druid is Derwydd in our tongue the Welsh of my fathers Our land is called Cymru and we have thrived here since ancient times We live by our cattle first our hearts and families second and our crops a poor third We are taught that a mist descended on our land in the before times and cleansed the earth of life And that a new people came our people and brought with them cattle all of the trades and a gift for song We were called Celts but now we are proudly Welsh the dragon is our badge and red war our way of life The Derwydd are our guides they follow the stars know the mystic tides teach our young and ease our old into the afterworld Never cross a Druid they say or feel your tongue curl into burnt leather in your mouth Please a Druid and luck will lay by your side I am called Caedmon wise warrior son of Lhur born in the shade of a great oak I was taught all of the high arts poetry music and war If ever you travel through our fortress-locked land you will be welcome at my hearth Come bring your sweet pipes and play bare your sword arm and raid with us When we return cattle rich then the feast will begin then the bards will sing and poetry will open your mind to the harmonies of heaven.
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Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
Knock on Wood
Druid is Derwydd in our tongue the Welsh of my fathers Our land is called Cymru and we have thrived here since ancient times We live by our cattle first our hearts and families second and our crops a poor third We are taught that a mist descended on our land in the before times and cleansed the earth of life And that a new people came our people and brought with them cattle all of the trades and a gift for song We were called Celts but now we are proudly Welsh the dragon is our badge and red war our way of life The Derwydd are our guides they follow the stars know the mystic tides teach our young and ease our old into the afterworld Never cross a Druid they say or feel your tongue curl into burnt leather in your mouth Please a Druid and luck will lay by your side I am called Caedmon wise warrior son of Lhur born in the shade of a great oak I was taught all of the high arts poetry music and war If ever you travel through our fortress-locked land you will be welcome at my hearth Come bring your sweet pipes and play bare your sword arm and raid with us When we return cattle rich then the feast will begin then the bards will sing and poetry will open your mind to the harmonies of heaven.
For my Welsh forbears.
jeff-stier
Written by
jeff-stier
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
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