Song of the Mapinguari
You talk of me and shake with fear,
For I am monstrous – so you say,
My dread approach you cannot hear,
So I may be there, night or day,
To hunt and find and catch and eat
Your cattle (well, they are a treat),
With second mouth on underside
(Or so some storyteller cried)
And arms so long they reach the sky
And claws as long as you are wide
And just one eye.
You tell how, like a bear, I rear
And, like a wolf, I howl and bay,
My putrid smell when I am near,
My claws that slice, and rip, and flay...
Well yes, they do – I do eat meat,
I am not made to live on wheat,
But you forget, I've never eyed
A human being's silverside,
And would you be surprised that I
As well have thoughts I can't abide?
Recall my eye.
I'd have to say my vision's clear,
I am not hindered on my way,
I get by when I'm hunting deer,
And when I (please believe it) play.
And yet this occupies a seat
Inside my mind: the fear I'll meet
Some accident, or something tried,
Some hunter on a morning ride,
Some stone or arrow that may fly
Not to my hard and rocky hide
But to my eye.
I will not cross the waters here,
I close my eye against their spray,
But need not them fear them year on year
If I keep out, and keep away.
And if you try to hurt and beat
Me, I will not so much as bleat,
For you will never get inside
My armoured skin; you've heard some died
By thirsting all through fruitless try
To harm me while their mouths were dried...
They missed my eye.
I shall continue in good cheer
Tomorrow, just as yesterday,
And sky be bright or sky be drear,
I'll live my life and hunt my prey,
And each new day with joy I'll greet,
And relish every merry tweet
Of every bird, and there to guide
Me are the rules by which I bide;
If good or bad or neither, why,
I'll take life's matters in my stride
With one good eye.
But to the sound of hunters' feet,
And to the fates that harm and cheat,
I send my will with every tide,
I pray to deities worldwide,
Through one thing may my strong will die,
Against it I'm not fortified–
Please spare my eye.
© A.R. Collins, 2017
For I am monstrous – so you say,
My dread approach you cannot hear,
So I may be there, night or day,
To hunt and find and catch and eat
Your cattle (well, they are a treat),
With second mouth on underside
(Or so some storyteller cried)
And arms so long they reach the sky
And claws as long as you are wide
And just one eye.
You tell how, like a bear, I rear
And, like a wolf, I howl and bay,
My putrid smell when I am near,
My claws that slice, and rip, and flay...
Well yes, they do – I do eat meat,
I am not made to live on wheat,
But you forget, I've never eyed
A human being's silverside,
And would you be surprised that I
As well have thoughts I can't abide?
Recall my eye.
I'd have to say my vision's clear,
I am not hindered on my way,
I get by when I'm hunting deer,
And when I (please believe it) play.
And yet this occupies a seat
Inside my mind: the fear I'll meet
Some accident, or something tried,
Some hunter on a morning ride,
Some stone or arrow that may fly
Not to my hard and rocky hide
But to my eye.
I will not cross the waters here,
I close my eye against their spray,
But need not them fear them year on year
If I keep out, and keep away.
And if you try to hurt and beat
Me, I will not so much as bleat,
For you will never get inside
My armoured skin; you've heard some died
By thirsting all through fruitless try
To harm me while their mouths were dried...
They missed my eye.
I shall continue in good cheer
Tomorrow, just as yesterday,
And sky be bright or sky be drear,
I'll live my life and hunt my prey,
And each new day with joy I'll greet,
And relish every merry tweet
Of every bird, and there to guide
Me are the rules by which I bide;
If good or bad or neither, why,
I'll take life's matters in my stride
With one good eye.
But to the sound of hunters' feet,
And to the fates that harm and cheat,
I send my will with every tide,
I pray to deities worldwide,
Through one thing may my strong will die,
Against it I'm not fortified–
Please spare my eye.
© A.R. Collins, 2017
