A Sussex Cry

Anst upon a time, fate liquefied in a single reigning moon goddess

And with a lithe touch she descends upon a man -

To be his unholy wife and cog and nurt him

At every twilight, beyond the mortal fortunes of eternity,

In appleterre’s heart.

The thirteen heavens acknowledge their amost good deeds;

Concealing their clogue fabled in verses, pride and trust.

The cobbling Chaos enshrouds their nothingness,

Blessing them with rather bettermost of vices and prejudices

To be enacted all-on and amakin.

In a single timmersome verse,

Written anewst the allus,

This man’s quill abroad and anywhen:

“Bide whist! To one and all I want to say

I cry possession of the goddess moon that cropped

While I was a-bed!

The crownation will take place wunst in the weald

And will be carried out by their Heathen Holiness

The vady crust-hungry kisses!”