The Saga of Sweetangel – Part 8

A bit more!


Longthorn knew that she’d warn her friends,

And was incensed at Poulter’s suffering,

So he ended her wickedness there.

He sent Turtle out of the shop,

And took out an old friend from his waistcoat,

A sharp razor that cut more than hair.


They carried Poulter together,

Trying their best to preserve his weak flame,

For his wound was enough to kill most.

“To Mama Grave,” whispered Poulter,

“The Ubu shaman owes me a favour,”

“Hurry or you’ll be meeting my ghost.”


With the help of a carriage ride,

They got to the Ubu Quarter quickly,

And they rushed to old Mama Grave’s door.

“Good mother, my partner is hurt,”

“Please do for him what you can,” said Longthorn,

As he laid Poulter out on the floor.


She set to work without question,

With a needle and thread and strange poultice,

Inspecting the gaping bullet hole.

“Bad thing done fell upon this man,”

“Terrorful wrong has visit inside him,”

“Not only gun-lead, also his soul,”


Mama Grave wore bones in her hair,

And the skins of beasts from Ubu Ubu,

And her skin was as dark as the night.

“This man should be dead from his wound,”

“The bullet smite badways upon on his heart,”

“Yet he breathe, yet he live, yet he fight.”



by Bret

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