Hymn a Sot, Lad
by Gareth Prunty
Dylan Thomas died on Monday, November 9, 1953. After his final binge a few days earlier, he reportedly said, “I’ve just drunk eighteen straight whiskies. I think that’s a record.”
On my sad halt, Monday’s halt,
damns lay hot,
No shady malt (so handy, malt)
and ash my lot.
Dynamos halt; Dylan’s a moth,
an old myth as a mynah’s told.
Mash Dylan to malt, so handy,
to a lad’s hymn, to hymn salad.
O lad at hymns, hymn a sot, lad,
mold a shanty.
No salt had my land oaths, my hymnal’s toad,
my hod aslant.
A shy nod malt has not, my lad —
my lash a don’t,
a don’t my lash. No malty dash,
no shady malt, and lost my “ah”.
Oh salty damn (malt so handy)!
Lay hot damns on my sad halt,
and lash to my holy mast and
lo, mad shanty!
Each line of the poem consists of one, two or three “Dylan Thomas” anagrams.
