The Boar Hunt: A Confessional Penitence

THE BOAR HUNT

 

A glory falls on castle walls,

A fair white tower afar descrying.

Blow we now our hunting horns

And hear the tower loud replying.

 

We come from a far-off land.

Coming from hunt we're homeward hying.

Blow we now our hunting horns

And hear the tower loud replying!

 

For there came a wild mad boar

And left our wheat downward lying.

Blew we then our hunting horns,

And heard the boar's voice replying!

 

Long we sought the roaring boar

Till we left it wounded, dying.

Blew we then our hunting horns,

And heard the echoes loud replying.

 

Tired we now are coming home

The castle walls espying.

Blow we now our hunting horns

And hear our home replying!

 

--from external evidence, about 1976-77.

Okay, I wrote this in middle school, when I was besotted with Mediavelism, or rather the strange Victorian take on the period, here especially Lord Tennyson. I have only made one or two 'corrections': I mainly wished to preserve the cringey feeling of it as looked back upon. The slight icing of AI generated illustration might be the most appealing aspect of this time-hardened cow pie. A roaring bore, indeed. But as a very wise magical dog once said, "Sucking at something is the first step towards being sorta good at something."