Three little
Druids went out one day,
Their mother’d
sent them on their way.
Being their
first time out alone,
They decided
to split up and build their homes.
The first
little Druid built his henge of straw,
Wasn’t
much to see, not worthy of awe.
But it soon
brought out the Inquisition,
Questioning his
alignment and exact position.
They burned
it down with a blazing fire,
All the
while calling the little Druid a liar.
He ran to
his brother’s henge built of trees,
But the
smell of Mother Church was in the breeze.
And so when
the authorities came to call,
The henge of
sticks resulted in a fall.
The little
Druids escaped by a narrow margin,
Knowing too
well Christian men never bargain.
So to the
last brother’s they escaped,
At their
heels were those famous for plunder and rape.
But the
oldest brother had studied history,
(Things to
this day which are still a mystery)
He built his
henge of strongest stone found,
For
assurance he placed it on holy ground.
So when you’re
in trouble, out on a ledge,
Mother
Church pushing you clear to the edge,
Look to
history of ancient said,
And the time
withstanding, famous Stonehenge.
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