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mylodonToday's post combines animals, their kindness, a response to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amaraal's thoughtful comment on the Lent 15 post, and the Friday reflection. It's technically a Christmas poem by the amazing U A Fanthorpe, but it applies as much to Lent, with the run up to Easter Friday. Imagine this read in a Gloucestershire accent (think of Sam Gamgee in the LOTR films because Sean Astin's pretty close).
THE INVITATION
THE FOXES HAVE HOLES… Matt. 8 20
The Gloucestershire foxes’ message
To the child beyond our sea:
We’d hear thee was born in a stable.
Us dreams uneasy of thee.
Us knows the pack be after thee
Us knows how that du end,
The chase, the kill, the cheering,
Dying wi’out a friend.
So, lover, us makes this suggestion
To thee and thy fam’ly tu:
Come live wi we under Westridge
Where the huntin folk be few.
Thee’ll play wi cubs in the sunshine,
Sleep in our snuggest den,
And feed on – well, us’ll see to that –
Forget they beastly men.
Maybe thee thinks tis too far off,
Our language strange to thee,
But remember us foxes of Westridge
When thou tires of humanity.
amaraal's thoughtful comment on the Lent 15 post, and the Friday reflection. It's technically a Christmas poem by the amazing U A Fanthorpe, but it applies as much to Lent, with the run up to Easter Friday. Imagine this read in a Gloucestershire accent (think of Sam Gamgee in the LOTR films because Sean Astin's pretty close).THE INVITATION
THE FOXES HAVE HOLES… Matt. 8 20
The Gloucestershire foxes’ message
To the child beyond our sea:
We’d hear thee was born in a stable.
Us dreams uneasy of thee.
Us knows the pack be after thee
Us knows how that du end,
The chase, the kill, the cheering,
Dying wi’out a friend.
So, lover, us makes this suggestion
To thee and thy fam’ly tu:
Come live wi we under Westridge
Where the huntin folk be few.
Thee’ll play wi cubs in the sunshine,
Sleep in our snuggest den,
And feed on – well, us’ll see to that –
Forget they beastly men.
Maybe thee thinks tis too far off,
Our language strange to thee,
But remember us foxes of Westridge
When thou tires of humanity.
