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.