nineveh_uk (nineveh_uk) wrote,
nineveh_uk
nineveh_uk

It's a sword, honest

I was reading some Anglo-Saxon poetry the other day, reminded of its existence by a friend complaining about teaching The Dream of the Rood. I rather like The Dream, which is basically HC Andersen’s The Fir Tree, but with added religion.

Anyway, I found myself in the riddles section, reflecting on the noble tradition of knob jokes in English literature, so in the interest of keeping literary tradition alive, I give you a modern version. I can’t compose in Old English, so this one is in the style of Anglo-Saxon translators.

Long and hard I lie by the leg of a man. Sometimes that hairy young man takes me from my hiding place to hold me in his hand. He fiddles me with his fingers. He would not be without me – I give him great joy!



A mobile phone. What else could it be, you filthy fanperson, you!

Question – what the hell is the dark-haired Welsh girl doing in the clean interpretation of Riddle XII? As she’s a slave, I am wondering something like a leather a bucket used in cleaning, but really I’m baffled.

And because once you start, you can't stop...

I tell you of a wondrous thing. A young woman drew me from beneath the covering cloth, took my round length firmly in her hand. That jolly girl inserted me into that hole I was made to fit, plunged and twisted me firmly in my place. I set up a great roaring! She was transported with delight.

A: A car key.
Tags: literature
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