(As entered in Reldo's Collected Tales, Week Two.)
~ Cenwig and the Evil Tree ~
In yore-days in thy glory of our thede
When maidens yielded kingly men
On woodland soil oft wooden stump,
Strong of stature and might of He,
Through sprout of hair and leaves
Oth that morning pale babe worthed
Timbermen.
But forest folk were fair in deed,
And did worthmint wholesomely
To thy fruit of fertility and growth
Imbued it did, so returned gift of help
To those in need, of Common, Oak, Willow
Maple, Yew which grew, also Magic
and Elder too.
So, a man born from thy drink of Lum,
Did thank thy grove which dwelt near
And rid them of thy tainting which sure’d
Of fewship saplings and ugg ovaries,
Fie! It was Zamorak’s garden which caused
Harm and cursed arm of root umsitters
That did atee.
Mid axe in left and fire in right, muscled
Wings did take flight and courage thwart
Those twisted and wicked trees, blemishers
Of nature’s purities – Mark! I couth to thee
In this epic tale, a moral of heroic instance,
Of Cenwig, son of Cuithbeart who totwemed
The Evil Trees.
18-Sep-2012 19:52:13
- Last edited on
30-Oct-2012 17:05:27
by
Cyun
