Ruis the Elder ... conscience

A travelling poet called George Borrow
told me things about Elder I could borrow; 
Such as, it holds a witch within its bark,
Always a lovely witch who haunts the dark.

I'll tell ye a tale of love for a mortal maid.
She said her bed was what the faeries had made;
But a fae's omen is always woven into all they make;
But as a young lad love was anything I could take.

She thought she had enraptured me 
with her charms,
But my thoughts were more than being 
wrapped in her arms.
Aye, those were days I may brag as 
being young and astray,
But 'twas that bed omen from the Caileach 
was what 'ad 'er way

What I thought was love 
had stopped flowing, strewth,
And that mortal maid soon found 'erself 
a fairer youth,
But in remorse I was saved by the witch 
within the elder's bark,
That lovely forgiving witch, they say, 
who haunts the dark.

She asked me for apples, she asked me for honey,
But not once did she ask me to count out me money.
The potion she made included some of her elder too.
I drank it and drank it believing my passion would renew.

But, not only did my passion get shorter, 
my arms and legs too.
My body turned into sinews 
that I could feel the wind blow through
Arms began to caress me and yes love again began to flow.
I had become a harp and through me 
love was for all to know.

to read an explanation of this story poem please click here