(from the legend of Baldr the Beautiful)
I’m a bad-ass, I’m a joker,
I’m a sly one, snake in the grass,
I’m a jealous one, out for mischief
I’m a red-top journalist.
He’s a mummy’s boy, he’s a heart-throb,
he’s too good to be true, he's top-drawer,
he’s invulnerable, they all love him,
all the polls say he’s most-likely-to.
They’re all sniping, digging dirt up,
it’s not sticking, he’s unharmed.
They all love his 'A' list celebrity
so he goes out quite disarmed.
But I’m Loki, I'm the envious one
with my contact, young Mistletoe,
we snared the brother, we destroyed them
No more pretty boy, Loki's won.
Baldur’s dead on board his yacht now.
He’s disgraced and laid so low
and his boat drifts brightly burning
on the sea off Plymouth Ho.
© Janice Windle 2014