Here’s my tongue-in-cheek response to Wes’
When Sucellus first came to me, a mighty hammer hefted he
“Your symbol is a pallusy” I quipped, “unless you wield it expertly.”
He winked, I blinked. He stripped: bare as butter with a beard.
“Drink?” My patera, being wet, I proffered nicely, when shyly
he paused, “You’ll have to put down the bees,” he breathed.
“Why?” Queried I, “For my honey-drizzled hive provides remedy
for happenstances occurred by the raven ‘neath my left knee.”
He blinked, I winked. He bit his lip: bold as barley’s grizzled ears
“I have been down below, before!” He scored, ‘My olla stores my seed!”
Wildly he splashed his chest, libation, lubrication, all of mead
– and so wildly did we do the deed, that from us each rose galaxies.
patera – ‘a broad, shallow dish used for drinking, primarily in a ritual context such as a libation’
olla – ‘a round pot’