Friday, April 26

Well, I went to work (MS) today, only to discover my meeting had been moved and cancled! So after the rejoicing I swung by BN just as they were opening up and picked up my paycheck. I then sat down at the cafe and did something I'm not allowed to do when I'm working there. I read. That's right, I READ! So as I was reading I came accross something in this grand book. (It's a book on Anglo Saxon swords, my guess is that it's someone's PHD work that got published.) Anyway I came accross a reference to a place called Lowbury Hill, which had something/ somone burried under it. And low, the poetry dids't flow from me upon the reading of that name:

Lowbury Hill
by Ben Morrell

What there lies under Lowbury Hill?
Whatever it is, is now cold and still.
What he once was, was a warrior of old.
Who fought glorious battles, or so we are told.
Was it an arrow, or blade that ended his life?
Or was it a dagger in bed, instead of his wife?
What there lies under Lowbury Hill?
Whoever he was, he lies now, so very still.



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