Women of the Isle – dark rhyme

A rough and stormy winter wind
Whispered in my ear.
Told me when to turn around
See what could be near.

There before me Highland stood,
Wood and winter wild,
Waves caressed a two-tone beach
And drove me as a child.

Mud hens garnered Fish in beak
I thought they knew better.
Catfish in the cold men’s lore,
Could fry them into fetters.

The wind of rock it came again,
this time another whisper.
“Oh look through trees you silly girl
see if there’s a lisper.”

So off I went, looking ’round
through high and low, low land.
Across a sea of snowy down
Laments were abound.

Two ladies hair of silver,
wailing of their lives,
Stood in front of frying pans
Brandishing sharp knives.

They hacked each other one for one
I wondered for their cause.
Each took a swipe while other screamed
And then returned in pause.

The wind again, it came to me,
And told me oh so softly,
“Do not look anymore,
You’ve learned this lesson roughly.”

I turned to back and settled down
Going on my way.
In my wander path was set
Told Me there’s a sway.

“Do not pick, it matters not,”
It said with a smile.
“In the end, you’ll not be caught
like women of the isle.”


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