The Snake King lives on the steep hinterland
Under the boulders and over the sand
He coils himself around the red stones
Squeezing the marrow from inside their bones
Their marrow runs fast, seeking the sea
Thus makes a river, and thus makes a tree
The Snake King sleeps in his watery lair
Biding his time before rising for air
And when he does
cross to the other side
He searches for fear to counter his pride
So he takes on a form of mortal temptation
A charming young man to the lucky young maiden
Lest she see his true tongue, he whispers devotions
Until in a trance, her feet move in motions
To the river she follows and sinks down below
Stuck in his lair where no mortal may go
And if she escapes, as the kidnapped can do
He raises his tail and the thunder rolls through
He must be appeased, the villagers say
And pray to a god much newer than they
The Snake King just laughs at their innocent crime
As he slides back below, merely biding his time
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