THE BABE AND THE BLUE CAT
(An exercise in one-syllable words)
A cloak of dark hid the boy with hair of fire
As he flew close to the land.
The boy made a torch of the wood,
An eye to the rise, and the first ray of sun.
He saw the crone in her black cart.
“Dark will stay to hold the night,” the crone did chant.
“Sun be gone!
Fire burn, lift and chase the cloud!”
A pure, blonde babe woke,
He lay in his wee bed.
A far off voice he did hear.
He saw the wood.
The flame lit sky.
Where was the sun?
Day was here, but all was dark,
Not a star did he spy.
Fire was in his nose and hair,
Fire in the wood close to the land!
A shrill caw, caw…a noise full of dread
put ice in his pure heart.
A blue cat did step to his side,
a soft paw she put on his cheek.
A tear fell, warm with salt, on the nose of the cat.
“Purr,” the cat said,
“Purr, chert and stone, pearl and bone,” she said to the babe.
The babe did sniff to dry his eyes.
He gave an ear.
His lips did part,
a smile broke, and with a wink,
He sang to the cat, “Chert and stone, pearl and bone,
Sun, the birth of fire, warm the new day.
Evil gone, good, will out.
Stay the clouds of gray.
Rain down where sweet grass will grow.
Chert and stone, pearl and bone.
Caw, caw, be gone the crone!”
Sang the babe and the cat.
The crone did lie in her black cart to wail and pitch.
A slick of oil she left in her wake.
The boy with hair of fire was but a spit
Of rain to douse the flame on the land.
Birds flew on high, bugs leapt to taste the dew.
“Chert and stone, pearl and bone,” sang the babe.
As he sat on the floor with the blue cat,
A beam of gold from the sun to warm his blonde head.
“Purr, purr,” said the cat.