The Sword of Squanto

by Tirost Armagna

Sing! My dancing, happy muse,
Of this, my fearsome sword,
How it began a flaming ball
And through the heavens soared,

Till breaking deep into the earth,
Ore waiting to be mined,
Till someone dug it from the depths
And to Squanto did provide

There he beat the precious ore,
Sparks from it flew once more!
Blazing with his hammer’s stroke
Until perfect in its form.

Then Squanto passed his masterwork
To the merry gnome,
Tinkery is what she’s called
And from Tinkery my own.

And this might be the history
Of my peerless blade,
But in truth, sing on my muse,
Of what’s hidden in the shade,

For someone paid a heavy price
For me to wield this sword:
Their identity is hid from me,
So Tinkery has sworn.

So through a hidden person’s love
My story is enriched!
And so my quest to spread that love
Will never end while I exist!