Superstitious

Eleven days, I’ve been without my knife,
I’ve waited patiently within my house,
I spend my hours with my kin and wife,
We even caught ourselves a little mouse!

We hung the creature up by string and tail,
It squeaked in desperation and in fear,
But it’s a trick I know will never fail,
Our cabbages will be quite large this year.

Twelve days my knife has not been by my side,
But still I make my journey in the dark,
The slightest sound will make me twist and hide,
Away from each and every airborne spark.

The ghostly lights that rule the riverbank,
Who knows with certainty what they could be?
I chew, in silence, marshroot and give thanks,
That twigs will keep the kelpies off of me.

It’s thirteen days, my precious knife still gone,
As I think back on everything I’ve seen,
And in the golden, brilliant light of dawn,
I put the orange leaf to my wound and clean.

The day is slow, my kin grow restless, tense,
They thirst for action, women and the men,
I tell them “soon, our mission will commence,”
And then at night apply the leaf again.

Now fourteen days my lovely knife has slept,
I go at once to bring it back to me,
A fortnight hence I came here and I left
My prize within a twisted ghastbark tree.

And now my kin and I go make the graves,
My daughter’s soul will be avenged this day,
My little girl forgot to break the waves,
And now that korrigan is going to pay!