With Brother
Truman over his shoulder and Brother Borium by the hand
Erik once
again snatched them from the Angel land
And so they
sailed to the land of the fjord
On the
wooden longship of the heathen horde
It was a
horrendous voyage of considerable unease
With gale
force winds and stormy seas
But
eventually they reached the safety of the shore
And not long
after there was a huge furore
Pigs were
put on spits and roasted over fires
And nubile
wenches catered for lustful desires
There were
chants and cheers and the occasional brawl
While locked
in a cage and wrapped in a shawl
Borium and
Truman were enthralled by it all
That was
until Erik whisked Borium away
And took him
to his shelter to have his wicked way
After it was
over and they’d lain on the bed
He’d told
Brother Borium to rest his weary head
But the next
words he’d uttered had filled Borium with dread
When Erik
had told him that the following day they’d wed
Thoughts had
spun around in Borium’s head
“But, Erik,”
he’d said. “Couldn’t we just live together instead?”
“No,” Erik
had replied. “You are mine to keep. Now hush, little Borium and get some
sleep.”
After a
sleepless night and much distress
Borium tried
to think of a way out of this mess
But there
was no way out
He was under
duress
So he donned
a robe
His Sunday
best
As Erik had
decided that he’d be wearing the dress
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