Author's note: Although technically a piece of satiric poetry, this was originally submitted as part of my storytelling work. Since I am now working on a Rindile (Satirist) concentration, too, I intend to re-submit it as such. Who knows? I might just put it to music and get credit for it four times! (Now if only you could dance to it!)
T'was the Eve before Yuletide and all through the Grove
Not a Druid was sleeping - we were wearing just Woad!
The cauldrons were hung on huge stones, standing still
In hopes that An Dagda, with Mead, them, would fill.
The children were laughing, all naked and skinny,
Squealing, "Mine is an "Outie'! Look! Your's is an 'Innie'!"
The Teens were off doing what they've always done,
While their parents pretended, "My kids are too young!"
A Wicked Witch winked, and asked, "How's it hangin?"
Then she dragged me behind a big bush for a bangin.
She was interested in Druidry, that I could tell,
Cause she asked if my Bile would fit in her well.
When out in the Circle we heard a loud wrangling
I leapt from the bush with my magic wand dangling.
Away to the Heelstone I ran, like a pup
Peering wildly 'round me it see what was up.
The moon on the surface of sacred stones bare
Gave the luster of Fairylight to everything there.
When, what do my mead-addled eyes actually see?
But a Part in the Veil and a bunch o' the Sidhe.
With a God who was radiant from His head to his toes
I could tell from His horns: it must be Cernunnos.
More rapid than eagles His companions they came.
And He greeted them warmly and called them by name:
About the Author - Bardd Dafydd is Vice-Archdruid of ADF, Deputy Chief of the Clergy
Council, Chief of the Welsh Kin, a Bardic Faulty Advisor and Archivist
of the Seers Guild. He is also the Senior Druid of Red Oak Grove in
New Jersey. [bio] [all articles by Bardd Dafydd]