In the kingdom of Bryneich
Verging on a muddy crook of Coquet
A dice of houses cast with clay and sheepdung
Through a soup of starlit peatsmoke
Gradually emerges as we descend
"Bring the goose my child!"
I carve a notch into the squirming post
It smells like a smithy
"Hurry now and drink the bowl before it congeals"
There comes frightful news from town
Of great evil abound
The heartbroken potter's idiot boy was snatched from the speltfield
Scouring a fortnight in the hills
All they found, pointing from a sett, a small grey hand
"Tie the goats to my cot
With tansy rags their faces cover
Push straws into the windows
Damp the coals, and bar the door with hornbeam limb"