Riddle 17

Ooh gurl, look at that — he’s a snack all right,

hoofing in hot-step, maddening lad, 

lust-ruffed, trussed up 

topwards, rizz with the quickness,

thicc in the business, trips in trust, 

rips on her way. Sports on spine 

some scuffle-spry, war-sporty 

shorty, just some random guy —

Kicks on tight, ready to tread,

ends unbending, extending

juice for my crew, rep kept in step—

and everybody knows it —

knows it but don’t show it,

coursing these courses:

roving all the way live.

Flows all glow, cash don’t fold,

hailed in hold. Struts on fleek

every damn day of the week,

just keep it fat for gurls like that.

Forget her, Mary — say who I am.

Riddle 17

Ic [on sīþe] seah .ᛋ ᚱ ᚩ

ᚻ. hyge-wloncne,   hēafod-beorhtne,

swiftne ofer sǣl-wong   swīþe þrægan.

Hæfde him on hrycge   hilde þrȳþe

.ᚾ ᚩ ᛗ.   nægledne rād

.ᚪ ᚾ ᛖ ᚹ.   Wīd-last reed

Rȳne-strong on rāde   rōfne .ᚳ ᚩ

ᛇ ᚩ ᚪ ᚻ.   Fōr wæs þȳ beorhtre,

swylcra sīþ-fæt.   Saga hwæt ic hātte.