Ballad
"The Emerald Isle"
by Elizabeth Santos Before the days of knights and dragons on the Emerald Isle it's said None have come back from this island, all who tried were spiked and burned It's a place of velvet meadows, lovely hills and snow white sand All had great desire to live there, but somehow they couldn't wrench This creature lived a thousand years, a thousand more he would remain For dreaded monster, though he be, across the isle he spread his waste Every youth had in a vision conquering the Bristly beast The folks had gathered in the hall deciding that a hundred men A hundred men with swords and spears and catapults to smash his brains They came upon the monster's home, the cavern wreaked of beastly grime The beast emerged from out the cave, the moonlight shown his ugly head The sign was given, the battle cry, the spears and rocks and arrows flew The dead men numbered ninety nine speared and singed, a warrior's plight Then one young man stood up and claimed the Beast of Bristles would be killed Laughter echoed in the tavern, jokes spread wildly through the town So young and thin, no warrior he who claimed the animal would die The laughter rose with visions of a scrawny lad upon a barge They laughed away the day and night and drank as jokes flew through the air The boy, meanwhile was coming close, he gasped for breath in musky stench The monster was not fooled at all he clamored in his awkward gate He then appeared above the boy, bristles poised to swiftly fly The boy within a second's time shot an arrow through the air The bristles of the beast fell off and underneath this spiky shield The boy returned upon a barge with ugly monster head in tow They settled on the Emerald Isle that will remain forever green
Lived the ghastly Beast of Bristles, some have called it "Isle of Dead"
That is why some folks still say it is "The Isle of no return"
What is now the Emerald Isle once was christened "No Man's Land"
This wasted land from Beast of Bristles' slimy snout and sultry stench
A thorn of hope, a spike of fate, the bristled spear of life's disdain
The Beast of Bristles made the isle the earth's most fruitful, fertile place
Every one who tread the isle became a bristled beastly feast
Would cross the channel late at night and trap him in the creature's den
The most skilled fighters, slingshots, rocks, every weapon they could name
Surrounding it, they waited for a signal in a moment's time
So shocked were they who witnessed live the beast, more gruesome than was said
But spiky bristles by the thousands was a force they couldn't outdo
One escaped to tell the tale of beast impossible to fight
He'd squelch the fire from his nostrils, leave him eyeless and dequilled
How could a novice gypsy traveler put a Beast of Bristles down?
They watched him board a little craft with just one arrow by his side
With bow and arrow by his side to kill an animal so large
A gypsy with one single arrow, what a joke beyond compare
The Beast of Bristles soon appeared, the boy hid in a nearby trench
Knowing what would lie ahead, the tragedy of youngster's fate
He opened wide his fiery mouth and fury marked his evil eye
A secret poison gypsy potion handed down to gypsy heir
There was an ugly wormy creature, not a weapon left to wield
He was the hero of all time, the rest's a story we all know
And this must be an Irish tale, I heard it from a sweet colleen
1 comment:
Eloy,
Don't forget to site sources and authors; we want everyone to get credit for their work. How does this poem fit with the theme of love and abandonment you have going through your SAT anthology?
As far as the page itsels, I like the design. Using red and green letters really gives an eerie appeal to your posts.
Mrs. Basham
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