There was a thread here that was for people giving thanks to things. But that doesn’t feel appropriate. This also does pertain to world-walking and an accidental vision quest, and does in part deal with the Aesir et al, but it doesn’t quite go in that section either. I’m sharing because my guts say all is not paid in full until the words are read, and future words will be read. So I’m starting this thread here.
They’re songs. Tunes not quite set, although I have been playing with Suno. (Hint: I sometimes prefer to play with my ukulele.) I may have more to write as time goes by, but for the big meat of what’s pushed me into actually giving a rat’s rope is paid as of 2 days ago.
Starting with Hekate’s Skald, because it’s in my clipboard. hahahah.
Why this one: because I’d asked her “How can I pay you?” even though she didn’t answer my question and pretty much just let me talk while feeding me goop on an abalone shell and handing me delicate things to keep. Old crone aspect. I had to walk across the river to see her and her cauldron. I might have decided walking on deathly waters wasn’t safe and floated/flew halfway across… Anyway. She said, “Write about me.” I responded in immediate concern, “I’m not really much for writing short stories anymore… how about a poem… or a song…” and was about to finish with “A comic” but she said with a secretive smile, “Write me a skald.”
I was immediately hit with “she’s finding something amusing” and hit her back with something amusing, that I’m pretty sure she knew I’d hit her back with. It took me days to write it, though. (Slow for me.) But to honor her request, I researched the form.
This sing is meant for banjo and fiddle.
Hekate’s Skald
They say she’s a figure of beauty:
A wonder of magic and fresh delight.
That innocence might not have swayed me.
Demure was the lure of her smile that night
While we stood down by the river,
Bare feet washed in death water sand,
Drinking soup while talking 'bout fashion,
Giving goods from right to left hand.
Hecate and me.
[verse]
Folks swear that she’s wild and wooly
A creature of hell cast out from far lands
Yet mothers grow strong when they listen
To love while in part seeking paths and plans.
But we stood down by the river,
Bare feet washed in death water sand,
Drinking brew while enjoying the night air,
Laughing like kids cuz life is so grand.
Hecate and me.
[refrain, court meter]
Kings clamor, fight and sing
Can they true treasure bring
Peek polite past white veil
Pass only friendly tales
Keep kind eyes, share as kin
Crack jokes to stoke her grin
Take time made good with joy
'Til farewell space employs
[interlude]
[verse]
I’m told she stands at death’s doorway
That’s how she rolls, guiding souls through the dark
With torch and her black hounds beside her
She can leave or love you but will make a mark
Yet we stood down by the river,
Drunk on dew while the moon lit the sky,
While the river passed by us uncaring,
Telling no tales and asking no lies.
Hecate and me.
[outro, skald]
Bee-gold high for wisdom-keeper
Barleycorn plays in metal-hall.
Mom’s peach fire-blessed, rhymer serves neat
World-walker full takes feast along.
[verse]
Yet we stood down by the river,
Drunk on dew while the moon lit the sky,
While the river passed by us uncaring,
Telling no tales and asking no lies.
Hecate and me.
“You come back now, ya hear?”