Hey, Jute

Hey, Jute, the news is bad.
You won't last long as a pacesetter.
The ember of rule that you tried to spark
Is going dark and getting wetter.

Hey, Jute, I am afraid
You weren't made to be a Celt settler.
The minute that your teeming tribes poured in.
Of you, other tribes got the better.

Now there's no time to sing a sad refrain, the pain
You feel comes from that dirk in your shoulder.
Well don't you know that you can't rule if you just pule.
Don't cry like a girl, you must get bolder.

Hey, Jute, they'll take you down.
You'll be bound and then put in fetters;
Dismembered—they might even take your heart.
If you depart, you'll fare much better.

Get out the same way you came in, Hey, Jute, your skin
Boat's waiting for someone to go home in.
And you must row, so plant your boot, Hey, Jute,
You'll move, but first remove that steel from your shoulder.

Hey, Jute, you should be glad:
You're long gone from that dreary weather.
Remember: follow your nautical chart.
A mistake could make you much wetter.