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Badger Poetry

Alan Zimbabwe
John Dillinger
Others
Clarence Peabody
Summer Fauve
Nick Green

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
Get up out of bed!
The Sun's in his summit
You thin sleepy head!
The Tree's are all rustling
To welcome the dawn,
You slept for an Aeon
And now are re-born.
The cats are all crying
For Moo-cow's fresh cream
Awake from your slumber!
Arise from your dream!
The dogs are all scratching
To open the gate.
You had an appointment
And now you are late!
The table is set
For hot toast and tea
One lump for you
And no lumps for me,
The fire is dancing
A jig in the grate.
Remember your Mission,
Your name and your date!
Rise up and put on
Your best morning suit
Your hat and your tie
And your big Golden Boots.
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
Pass me the Jam!
And a knife and some butter
As fast as you can!
Pour steam in the kettle
That whispers a ditty,
To seduce the sunrise,
A fish for the kitty!
The porridge is salty
And lumped as you love
And eggy-wegs too
On the shelf up above.
The cottage is clean
And the cushions are plush,
And outside the forest
-In expectant hush,
Waits for your wonder
A wander abroad,
The less traveled road
And the well earned reward.
Now is the season
Of Adventures and games
You know where your living
So what is your name?
No man is an Island
And each Tree has roots
So off out the door then
Oh Old Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
Shut tight the gate!
Or the Pigs will go prancing
And the Cows ruminate
Concerning which grass
Of which Greenness is best
And crossing the threshold,
Conduct their own test.
And ring on the Bell
For announcing your leave
Down the dry stone road
And under the eaves.
Pack up some things
To ensure works relief!
And tie in a knot
In a silk handkerchief-
On the end of a stick
It will bobble and bounce,
As off down the track way
You foot loosely flounce...
Towards the Wild West Wood
Dark and untamed
Where big hungry things live
That have not been named.
Sing me a sad song
Or toot on a flute
But no turning back now!
Brave Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
Where the path parts
Stand under the gibbet
And wait for a Hart!
With big sad brown eyes
And a cotton-tuft tail
Two soft and fresh horns
On four legs thin and frail.
He waits for you there
To show you the way
And no Hunter can hurt him
Or so I've heard say -
No trapper can catch him
And tan his soft hide,
As fast as the wind
He roams far and wide -
His task to take travelers
The true path within
The forests dark palace
To meet the Green King,
The hoary Old Monarch
Of old moss and mud,
The King of the silence,
The ward of the wood.
Where his bare feet fall
Spring fresh flowers and shoots
He's waiting your visit
Oh, late Golden Boots.
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
Follow the Fawn.
And do not forget him -
You have been fair warned,
For mazes that men make
Are nothing compared
To the meandering pathways
That wait to ensnare
The unwary wanderer
Of such dark places,
In it's dim clearings
May yet be found traces
Of those who have wandered
In circles forever
Until picked to the bone
And laid bare to the weather...
Heed not the "Halloo's!"
Or the strange trumpet sound
That in the mid-distance
And nearer still sounds.
For such fancies and fears
Are traps surely set,
Just you follow that fawn
And be sure, don't forget!
Run like the wind
Always watching his route
It's the only safe pathway
Or lost, Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
You'll first see a light
In the dim greenery
That passes for night -
And as the Hart leads you
Through statues of Trees,
At the edge of that clearing
Drop to your knees,
And cast your eyes downwards
Sit humble and wait
An invite to enter
The Palace main gate.
For thieves and thrill-seekers
Are not welcome within -
Some lose their marbles
And others their skins.
Look down at the Mud
And the leaves at your knees
Stay still as a statue,
Don't move in the breeze...
For days and for nights
Or as long as it takes,
For He sleeps with the forest
And He wakes when He wakes -
His alarm call the White Owl
Who knows when he hoots?
Do your best to learn patience
Cold Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
When his foot falls
And the Owl's crying high note
Rings through his halls
Wait for his shadow
To swallow your frame,
And when He inquires
Tell him your name.
Not the one that your mother
Calls you by dear...
But the other that Daddy
Hissed in your ear -
That no-one else Mortal
Should ever be told
Lest you should lose it
Then never grow old...
In a strong noble voice
That has no room for fear,
And state your poor pleadings
When he stands near...
And if you are worthy
He'll welcome you in,
If you are lacking
We will not meet again -
And till he inquires
You must stay struck mute
Keep your tongue tied tight
Oh, small Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
When he takes your hand!
Lift up and follow him
Where he commands.
Into the arches of Ivy and Bark
Where sunlight slips streaming
Into the Deep Dark.
Step in his footfalls
Do not seek his face
Keep your eyes downcast
In that sacred place -
For his countenance strikes
All Men chill to the bone
He'll lead you inside
To his Organic Throne -
Give him the things
That you thus far have found,
The pebbles and acorns
Strewn on the ground -
Laid at his feet
In the sepulcher's shade
A tribute to him
Whose Wild World you invade,
Offer him berries,
Pluck him off fruits,
To charm your encounter
Serene Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
The satyrs will come!
And the Dyads and Faeries
At the setting of Sun.
And there make a banquet
A fair forest feast
With seeds for the wild birds
And roots for the beasts.
Sweet are the songs
That will knock at your ears
The Jig-in-the-Green
That few mortals hear...
To all who regard you
And stare a your face
Bow low and humble
With good humour and taste -
Drink to their health
And offer a toast,
But yet meek and humble
Don't stutter or boast
You're a lone ambassador
Of Adam's kin
And rarely are your sort
Welcomed within -
Sing all their green songs
And laugh as they hoot
Join in the party
Wise Golden Boots!
 

Golden Boots! Golden Boots!
When the table is bare,
And the guests all departing
Into the thin air -
Take off your boots
And polish them twice,
Then offer them up
As a true sacrifice -
For all of life's treasures
Are Houses and Food
Come by the grace
Of the King in the Wood...
Offer him all,
As He does to you...
Your fine Golden Boots
Should quite nicely do,
For he sends abundance
Without request...
And if you've stayed true
To the line of your quest
He'll smile like a father
And pat at your head
Till the Forest is faded
And your home in your Bed-
In warm woolen blankets
Wrapped up so cute
At the foot of your bed
Wait your old Golden Boots.