WET WEEKEND IN TRANSSYLVANIA

The rain falls hard here on a naked head.
All travellers are wise to keep indoors;
So buy a hat - put garlic round your head.
We'll spend this night time mopping up the floors.
 

The healers ply their trade and offer cures
For all the ills the common people dread.
The rich pay fees that subsidise the poor.
The rain falls hard here on a naked head,
 

And when the keening wind would wake the dead
A silver pelt slinks forward on soft paws.
The wolves have young all waiting to be fed,
So travellers are wise to keep indoors.
 

However much they bring, the whelps want more.
Yes, stay indoors enjoying soup and bread.
A sword or gun won't even up the score,
Nor will a hat. Put garlic round your head.
 

Those who decide to safeguard heart and head,
But lodgings are more than they can afford
Could offer to wash dishes here instead,
Or spend the night time mopping up the floors.
                            The rain falls hard here.
 

 

©2008 Susan M Phillips, revised 2009. No reproduction of this poem is permitted without the author's permission.

WET WEEKEND IN TRANSSYLVANIA