Monday, September 20, 2021

Raise Your Flagon by Pat Tyrer

This song is for the little folk
who live throughout the glen
their bowers fill the roots of Oaks
among the flora blend.

Each morn I see them pail in hand
traipsing through the grass
gathering up the drops of dew
that fill the mountain pass.

Old Erik is their chieftain now
he wears a beard of green
with crumpled hat and furrowed brow
and wrinkles in between.

He has three wives whom he adores
Sophia, Bryn, and Kate
And bairns from eight to twenty-four
All live about the place.

The girls will marry hardy men
the boys will marry maids
And fill their homes with mighty kin
Whose names will never fade.

They celebrate the many births
a hundred every year,
And drink until they’re filled with mirth
from flagons filled with beer.

Long after we who sing these tunes
shall fade like morning stars
Old Erik and his magic runes
Shall still be at the bar.




Pat Tyrer teaches creative writing at West Texas A&M University in Canyon, TX. When not reading or writing, she can be found hiking Palo Duro Canyon bird watching during the day and star gazing at night. She has published in Readers Digest, Quiet Mountain Essays, The Literary Hatchet, and Bewildering Stories among others. She is the author of two books of poetry, Creative Hearts and Western Spaces, Western Places. 

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