A story to you I will tell,
Concerning a magical well,
With properties strange,
Which could well rearrange
Your life, if upon it you fell.
If you would be master for life,
Escape being nagged by your wife,
Then hark unto me,
And soon you will see,
How you can stop marital strife.
Its efficacy lads I can vouch;
And all you need do is to crouch
Upon the well's lip,
Then in your hands dip,
And clasp them in form of a pouch.
Then drink from that pouch, for the well
On one of a pair'll cast a spell.
The one who's the first
To there quench their thirst,
Will rule o'er the house where they dwell.
Yes folks, I can hear you all ask,
Did I carry out this wee task?
Do I rule the roost
And stay unabused,
As I here in luxury bask?
I'll tell you: the old vicar said:
"With this cheap old ring I thee wed." Before he said more, I'm off out the door, And off to the magic well fled.
But Erm, she was smarter than me.
She giggled on watching me flee,
Then slipped her hand down
In the folds of her gown,
And drank from the bottle with glee.
(Based very loosely on a traditional Cornish poem.)
Last updated: Sun, 2 Dec 2001.