For twelve long years the fruits fell not
and the trees were heavy with dew.
And then down came a ray from out of the blue
and—well now—just look what you got.
The man with the wings said Hail, favoured one:
and you answered, But my mouth is so small!
and the man said Thou shalt conceive, and was gone,
and his horn had exalted your all.
Announce, annanounce! cried your husband, joy-toped,
for you'll finally own what you dream—
yes just as you wanted, your womb has been oped
and your ray has at last shown his beam.
— I've wept and I've fasted, I've wept and I've prayed
and my head has grown slightly bald.
He'll make us no profits, but we need not the aid,
and we'll savor his skills instead as a skald—
St. Ann of the Rochs doth sit on her throne,
see her hold—hoopsaboy!—her new child:
give her mantle and robe, green and red, of her own,
an ancilla so fair, and so mild!
Now my mouth is enlarged against all my foes
and my horn exalts in the lord.
For broke are the mighty men and their bows
and the weak are no longer ignored.