The Ferry To Hel

The young King stood upon the shade-filled river Styx
And argued with the Ferryman about crossing.
The Ferryman, secretly, the young King’s sire,
Had a wicked grin creak across his wrinkled, gray face.
“I have slept with many men’s wives, o thou proud king.”
The king, with wrath, opened up his mouth in judgment;
“Let me cross the river Styx, into hel, the land
“Of Giants.” But the ferryman would not. He cried,
“O, you’ll travel far from thy wife, so unfaithful!”
The King spoke, “I have slaughtered many Nephilim!”
The Ferryman creaked a smile most severe. “I
“Will not let you. For if you cross, you shall lose aught!
“Thy wife shall sleep with any wight, and thy joys fail!”
The King, knowing the old Ferryman’s exploits, glared.
“My wife is faithful, you lie!” Yet the ferryman
With a devilish grin, said, “I will not let you.”

I pondered on the old tale. I thought both were fools.