A brag or braag is a mischievous shapeshifting goblin in the folklore of Northumbria, and often takes the form of a horse or donkey. It is fond of letting unsuspecting humans ride on its back before bucking them off into a pond or bush and running away laughing.
As we begin to gallop, you’re my lord:
control is thine, the reins are in thy fist.
Commands are law that cannot be ignored –
to serve you is my reason to exist.
Then, later in our roving, there’s a bond:
our minds enleagued, a union transmundane –
where thought and movement nimbly correspond,
the night our fief, and speed our sole demesne.
But speed is ever governed by the slowest –
as we conclude our roaming, this is clear:
the tardy one is thee – I think thou knowest –
since thou imbibed six flagons full of beer.
So off my back I’ll toss thee, errant knight,
and hie thee hence into yon ditch of shite.
|Cheaper than an Uber, I guess.|