172. River-Mates

I’LL be an otter, and I’ll let you swim

A mate beside me; we will venture down

A deep, dark river, when the sky above

Is shut of the sun; spoilers are we,

Thick-coated; no dog’s tooth can bite at our veins,

With eyes and ears of poachers; deep-earthed ones

Turned hunters; let him slip past

The little vole; my teeth are on an edge

For the King-fish of the River!

I hold him up

The glittering salmon that smells of the sea;

I hold him high and whistle!

Now we go

Back to our earths; we will tear and eat

Sea-smelling salmon; you will tell the cubs

I am the Booty-bringer, I am the Lord

Of the River; the deep, dark, full and flowing River!