Selected Articles from
The Gull Archives

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The hall was cheer, the still night was clear
The snow lay white on the ground.
The fire in the pit, the boar on the spit
And joy was all around.
The Kings's mood was high, and his lords all drew nigh
They lay their yule gifts down.
The tales are told, of the weight of the gold
And the rarest silks to be found.
When his eyes then did fall, on the gate to the hall,
And a beggar who laid his gifts down.
"Your pardon dear sire for the chill on your fire,
These few nuts are all that I own."
The King bid his stay, a lord from this day,
"Your chestnuts are fit for a Crown."

Lord Thomas Buttesthorn
Prize winning entry
Poetry contest Esfenn Yule Revel
Dedicated to Brianna Mc Kenna Who held her first contest


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