And scarlet red his flag

TH Laird Colyne Stewart, December AS 51 (2016)

Winter white the prince’s horse,

And scarlet red his flag,

Dimpled snow belied his course,

‘Cross the heather and the gorse,

And scarlet red his flag.

His lance askew, tipping down,

And scarlet red his flag,

Tattered crest upon his crown,

Jupon stained with ruddy brown,

And scarlet red his flag.

Holes in armour gaping large,

And scarlet red his flag,

Scabbard empty of its charge,

Lost with spear and royal targe,

And scarlet red his flag.

Falling, quiet, into snow,

And scarlet red his flag,

Never now his love to know,

Left to die a death so slow,

And scarlet red his flag.

O Badrielle

O Badrielle,

You give advice so freely,

And you don't mock or laugh at anyone.

As puppets go your blood is rather steely,

And you have a hand that goes right up your bum.

People long to hear what you will say next,

They all yearn to be told just what to do.

You have no knees

O hear the puppet voices

O Badrielle!

O doll, whose view's askew

O Badrielle!

O Bad-, O Badrielle!