In the Lion's Mouth

Cover Art!

Processional

Sing, O harper, the anger of Donovan buigh,
That graced us all with boundless grief,
And left brave men a prey to dogs and kites
As we foresaw upon that fateful day
When Donovan buigh and Those of Name
First fell out. 
#
When his wrath at first arose ’twas I he fixed it on. 
Oh, yes.  ’Twas I who hauled him from his happiness
Off those same Jehovan streets where once he walked,
And had he not his eye upon more distant joys affixed,
We’d twain lie dead in those same gutters, gutted
By each other’s skills.  But he foreknew, and so forbore to fight
And did submit him to my plea.  But know this now, o harper.
It was to thee that he was bound when I untimely snatched him up. 
Attend my tale and learn
Why once-great cities burn. 
#