Belief is a ship
 on the fish flecked sea,
 close hauled and tacking,
 against this Christian gust.

 It has a dragon’s head,
 and aft a crook, which turns up,
 and ends in a dragon’s tail.

 Gilded carved work on each side
 of the stem and stern.
 I call this ship “The Serpent”
 Its hoisted sails are dragon’s wings.

 I’m brought before me boss,
 who offers me baptism.
 “And,” says he, “I will not
 take thy property from thee,

 but rather be thy mate,
 if thou wilt make thysen
 worthy to be such.”

 I exclaim with all me might
 against his offer, say
 “I’ll never believe in Christ,
 and this so called God.”

 Boss was wroth, and says “Thee
 shall die worst of deaths.”

 He orders I be bound
 to a beam of wood, me face
 uppermost, and round pin of wood
 set between my teeth
 to force me gob open.

 Boss orders an adder
 rammed down my gob,
 but adder shrinks back
 when I breathe against it.

 A hollow branch of angelica root
 is stuck in my gob; others say boss
 put his horn into me mouth,
 and forces adder in
 holds a red-hot iron
 before me open gob.
 So adder creeps into it,
 down me throat,
 gnaws its way out my side.

 My last breath is a ship
 on the fish flecked sea,
 close hauled and tacking,
 against this Christian gust.

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