Bobby Lee Goosey
Beading the Night
When
Ivan went to bead a night,
At night to bead, to bead a night,
He saw the starts up in the skite,
Up in the skite, the starts so bright,
When Ivan went to bead a night.
As
Ivan leed upon the beed,
Upon the beed, in beed he leed,
He heart the angles voices swede,
Their swede and ululating Lied,
As Ivan leed upon the beed.
When
Ivan heart that Angel-lied,
It tested swede, like viscous mead,
And saw the starts’ celestial might,
Up in the skite, the starts so bright,
He knew the whorled was spun in deed,
The whorled was rapt in flaxen seed;
Swede
sleep swept over Ivan Trite,
And Ivan went to bead the night.
At night to bead, to bead a night,
He saw the starts up in the skite,
Up in the skite, the starts so bright,
When Ivan went to bead a night.
Upon the beed, in beed he leed,
He heart the angles voices swede,
Their swede and ululating Lied,
As Ivan leed upon the beed.
It tested swede, like viscous mead,
And saw the starts’ celestial might,
Up in the skite, the starts so bright,
He knew the whorled was spun in deed,
The whorled was rapt in flaxen seed;
And Ivan went to bead the night.
[excerpted from the book by U.R. Bowie, Here We Be. Where Be We?]
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