The Houndsman

The Houndsman

A houndsman am I, my visage a void
A daring shadow the townsfolk avoid
My pack and I know when danger’s begun
So onto new tumbling greens we run
Keen-eyed ambition, I seek lively air
My clever mind learns each alley and stair 
When bounty not earned, then do what we should—
I’ll steal a dagger, make way for the wood!

A houndsman am I, so tell you in time
The tracks that run through this valley are mine!
Toils of many, taken in by the few
Tin, lead, iron, and silver of every hue
When comrades afflicted sink with ill health
My pack atones wounds with lustrous wealth
Minding the uplands, we shield every foal
For I know which rivers run black with coal.

A houndsman am I, a harrier’s guard
Let all poachers be trialed, juried, and marred
When nature’s fervent bursts forth unaware,
My pack trim the herds with great cull and care
This realm begets rabbits, falcons, and deer
Bluebell-adorned pathways ring in each ear
Open land safe by blessed till and harrow
Forests await the sound of my arrow!

A houndsman am I, friend of the fallen
My wisdom sings through the hills like pollen
When life’s final breath is tested and tried
My pack chases after, a glorious guide
Bequeathing the wailing of Mallt-y-Nos,
I track hallowed ground for mourning and loss
Growling of geese carried by merry gale,
Our Wild Hunt starts, claiming souls without fail!

I was compelled to write a companion piece to The Shepherd. I tried to focus on the roles of canines in Gallo-Brythonic religion, with a touch of personal gnosis.

Molami Cunomaglos! (I praise Cunomaglos)

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