The Storyteller

…and when he died
The Storyteller

Last seen in the Sailors’ Orphan Girls’ School, he hears their taunts
There’s girls and boys, loose cannons, rumbling around our road
Shooting blanks, as they kidnap words from a storytellers’ haunts
He told so many great tales, wanted us to hear him, recite, unload

So when he died, they respectfully prayed, then ran on into the night
Found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, this story will unfold
Spread his precious notes, canon full of pride, a golden shower, light
Eleven thousand pages, words & deeds; stories our great master told

Rejoice, he’s gone, bask in his memory, now and ever after hours
Let’s all link hands, dance in his house, for our reflected glory
Rejoice in his romance, magic tales, refreshed by shining powers
You know, he laughs again; now begins, a new sweet, jackanory

Na na, na na nah.  Na na, na na nah.  Mickey Mouse
I hear their voices harping in the playground house



©Christopher 2023
Photographs by George P Landow





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