A loathly lady here indwells,
silver-green skin, stained by the fells.
In times of pestilence and droughts
a lustful lad, lottery-chosen from hereabouts,
was tightly bound and to her given;
a practice derided as devil-bidden,
Now local lads in texting, gaming,
stay away, and who can blame them.
Though the lonesome loathly lady might berate:
Behold, her current mate-less hateful state.
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #21